


Dirt On Your Name

by sabbypandawan



Category: Glee
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, I really hope I haven't forgotten anything else, Jealous Blaine, M/M, minor d/s stuff in chapter 5, minor mention of past self-harm in Chapter 3 and maybe Chapter 6, minor mentions of past assault (again nothing graphic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3117692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabbypandawan/pseuds/sabbypandawan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson is NYU’s most notorious lothario. Everybody knows his name, and people either warn each other off him or vie for his attention. So when Blaine meets Kurt Hummel at a party their dorm is hosting for the newly moved-in freshmen, he expects either rejection or, more likely, approval – and gets so much more than he ever would have guessed, and had definitely never hoped for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You've Got A Bad Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> College AU Klaine, inspired by "Call That A Comeback" by You Me At Six. If you're into Brit Rock, I highly recommend it.
> 
> This is almost completely written, I only have two more parts to go out of 7, which are completely planned out; so unlike with my other WIP's, updates here should be fairly regular. Like, at least every Friday.
> 
> Please remember to let me know what you think, either by adding this to your alerts, pressing the little kudos button at the bottom and/or commenting :) Enjoy!

The first time he noticed him was at the start-of-term party his dorm hosted to welcome the freshmen, which loosely translated to a party for all the older students to find younger, gullible, fresh meat to seduce between their sheets. He’d be a liar if he said that hadn’t been his intention at first; he was notorious for bedding anyone who had a dick, moved, and was somewhat up to his standards. As someone who prided himself in not being shallow enough to have a type, that meant there were a lot of applicants vying for a position on his metaphorical list of conquests, and he didn’t see the point in turning them down if they both wanted it. That was something he was adamant about; if the other guy only showed tiny signs of being unsure, of not giving full consent, he wouldn’t touch them. If they regretted it later, after realizing there wasn’t more to reap from the relationship, that he didn’t fucking cuddle or magically invite them out to coffee after all, that wasn’t his problem though, as he always made sure to completely clarify that he wasn’t interested in continuing any relationship beyond that first night he shared with a guy. Some of his friends tried to convince him to leave behind his Casanova ways, that he was a senior now and supposed to be more serious, he was about to enter the real world and he should focus on real, important things and maybe try to establish a real, stable relationship, but the reasons they listed were precisely what turned him off to the idea – he was a senior now, and he wanted to enjoy his last year at college to its fullest extent.

So, when Blaine noticed Kurt Hummel for the first time, there was no romantic story to be told of how his entire world flipped on its axis and he was a changed man just by laying eyes on the other – well, boy. Kurt was four years his junior, and his face still held faint traces of his youth, whereas his own had sharpened and hardened over the time he had on him. There was no fairytale of the pale teen lighting up the entire room and everyone else fading away as Blaine caught sight of his soulmate. That didn’t mean he didn’t immediately wow Blaine; no, there was definitely something about him that demanded attention, whether it was his obvious beauty or the calm strength he radiated, or how he pulled focus without even doing anything other than standing quietly against a wall, or even that strange purity that seemed to come off him in waves, like he was something not to be tainted. So Blaine could at least say that something other than the sight of a new piece of ass he definitely wanted to taint drew him in from the start.

As he approached him, not like a race car chasing the finish line, but rather like a connoisseur would go about tasting a choice vintage, he had to admit he was astonished by the unconscious change in his methods, but decided to go with it. He didn’t go over to him and start whispering about all the things he could show him, turn him on until his engines were revving enough to take the headfirst slide down the fast lane; he started with a sweet, but confident smile instead, uncorking the bottle. The boy looked startled, his blue eyes widening to make him look even more like a graceful deer, although one caught in headlights, and even in the dim light, Blaine could clearly see that there were dark spots appearing high on his cheeks. He averted his gaze, but when it flickered back up a second later, he smiled again and got a tentative twitch of lips back. He knew this was the best sign he could hope for to start decanting.

He made one of his special cocktails that usually went over well with inexperienced drinkers, because it tasted more like an exotic punch than alcohol; peach schnapps and Malibu rum with mango-pineapple juice. It was, admittedly, a rather “girly” drink, but he thought it was delicious and any guy he got to try it had agreed so far. Of course, he wasn’t sure if they actually agreed or if they were just trying to flatter him, but he’d take credit nonetheless.

Two solo cups in hand, he made his way through the throng of people, who were dancing or talking, all of them drinking and sweating up a storm in the stifling heat of the packed room. The appreciative glances thrown his way didn’t go unnoticed, but he didn’t care about them in the least as he zeroed in on his objective: the tall, unusually pretty and painfully shy guy with the lithe body he couldn’t wait to feel writhe beneath his own. He leaned against the wall next to him and thrust the cup out for him to take; the teen simply looked from him to the cup and back again, confusion and suspicion etched in those angelic features. It made Blaine crack a smile. “I swear I didn’t drug it. I’m nothing if not anal about consent.” The boy chuckled and averted his gaze, the faint hints of a blush he’d seen earlier returning tenfold.

“That’s probably what all creepy rapist guys say before luring intoxicated young boys into the back of their trucks,” he quipped, but accepted the cup nonetheless, although he didn’t drink from it. It bothered Blaine a bit, but not enough to not laugh at the reply, reveling in the clear, high, but undoubtedly male tones of his voice.

“You’re probably right. But I can assure you there’s no truck to speak of, and although it’s pretty hard, I do my best to give the sexual offenders’ database a wide berth.” The guy emitted the most adorable giggle, causing Blaine’s own smile to widen.

“Well, there’s always that point where you can’t resist temptation anymore. I’d at least like a name though before I drink this, so I can give the police the right one to put on there when I inevitably end up in your not-truck.”

“I’m Bruce Wayne and the not-truck is my Bat Mobile.” In response, the pale teen snorted, giving Blaine the satisfaction of knowing his joke was appreciated.

“Then I’m Captain America. You know, picture of patriotic masculinity.” The senior couldn’t help but notice the bitter edge in the other guy’s voice. Tactile and sensitive as he was, he reached out a hand to clasp the guy’s shoulder.

“Captain America’s got nothing on you.” The tall beauty looked away bashfully once more. Blaine cleared his throat, only then realizing he’d said those words out loud.

“I’m Blaine. Blaine Anderson,” he continued and removed his hand to hold it out to the boy. “I’m in 122.”

“Kurt Hummel,” the guy – Kurt – replied and shook Blaine’s hand after a moment’s hesitation. “124, so I guess we’re next door neighbors.”

Blaine gave him a strange look. “How did you manage to get on the first floor? The rooms there are usually reserved for seniors and the occasional, nerdy junior.”

Kurt bit his lip, the action drawing Blaine’s attention, before he spoke up with a barely audible, “extenuating circumstances.” While he “ah”d and nodded in apparent understanding, Blaine was, in actuality, even more intrigued than before, if such a thing was possible. In any case, Kurt seemed grateful for his lack of probing, although still tense.

“So… what are you in for?” Blaine asked, hoping to lighten the mood and get rid of the sudden awkwardness following his initial question. To his delight, it worked, eliciting another adorable chuckle from the other boy.

“Judging stupidity, and fashion design with a minor in business. You?”

“The riveting college life, and music with a minor in business, too. We might see each other in class.”

Kurt quirked an eyebrow at him, and really, it shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was, but, well – it fucking was. Blaine licked his lips and watched the boy’s mouth move as he spoke, focusing hard to catch what he was saying.

“I highly doubt it, since you must either be a senior or a nerdy junior and in neither case you’d have to take the same classes as me. I’m all introductory this semester.”

The shorter man smiled. “I’m one of the TA’s for one of the intro classes.” Noticing Kurt’s astounded face, he quickly added, “nothing too serious, I’m just helping one of my favorite professors with a bunch of things like setting up the technology and copying handouts and such. I don’t even get to help with the grading, but I need a killer reference letter and she promised she’d write it if I helped her out this semester.” He didn’t mention how the grading part was mostly due to the fact that the professor in question, who happened to be his godmother, knew there was no way he wouldn’t at least try to be inappropriate with one of her students, and this way, any threats pertaining to that pesky “conflict of interests” line his contract would have entailed could be avoided.

“Naw, so I can’t even pump you for information about what’s going to be on the test?” Kurt replied with a mock-pout, making Blaine think that there was something else he’d like him to pump him for. Had this been anyone else, he probably would have said it out loud, too, but something about Kurt warned him off to that approach.

“Well, I do still have connections. I like daisies and toaster strudels.”

“What, no pop-tarts? What kind of college student are you?”

“The exceptional, unique snowflake kind.”

Kurt cracked another smile, showing off tiny teeth and crinkled eyes. The sight made something within Blaine thaw out.

“Look –“ he began, but Kurt interrupted him.

“I know what you’re going to say, but while it’s really nice that you’ve come to put me out of my awkward misery, I’m not interested.”

It was Blaine’s turn for his eyebrows to shoot up.

“What do you mean?” He really was puzzled; well, logically, he knew what Kurt probably meant, but he just had never had anyone say no to him right off the bat. Sure, some guys chose to retreat rather than set themselves up for the heartache that was climbing into bed with him, but there literally wasn’t anyone he’d come on to who hadn’t at least given it a shot at first. Did that make him an arrogant jerk, not going into a flirt thinking he’d be rejected? Maybe. He chose to consider himself healthily self-confident though.

“I’m not going to live the cliché about 80% of the freshmen here are on their way to fulfill,” the pale teen replied, gesturing to their fellow party-goers. “I’m not going to let some strange guy fuck me on my first night here and start off my college experience all bitter and pissed about the fact that I didn’t get my slightly more realistic fairytale Marshall-and-Lily romance after all.”

Blaine gaped, too stunned to even give one of the charmingly snarky replies he was usually so good at thinking up.

“And don’t even try to tell me that wasn’t what you were going for, _Blaine Anderson_ ,” he pronounced Blaine’s name like it was a title, making the curly-haired senior wonder who he’d been talking to, “or what the point of this,” Kurt again gestured to their surroundings, “whole thing is.”

Blaine was quiet for a moment, uncharacteristically bothered by Kurt’s assessment of him, and the assumptions he’d thrown out there, in spite of the fact that he knew they were true for the most part.

“So you’ve got me all figured out, huh?” he finally spoke up, calmly and quietly but still loud enough to be heard over the steady untz untz untz of the music thumping from the speakers.

“I have… friends in high places. Who know things,” Kurt replied vaguely.

“Oh, and here I was going to compliment you on how very astute you are,” Blaine countered, probably sounding about 5 years old in his moment of petulance and feeling gloriously free in not caring one bit. He didn’t like being judged.

Kurt, in turn, laughed, albeit a little incredulously. “So are you trying to tell me that it isn’t true?”

Blaine threw up his hands. “No, by all means, believe everything they told you. I mean, I can’t honestly deny every allegation, so I won’t try. Sorry for bothering you.”

Sour and for the first time ever regretting his exploits, even if it was just a tiny little bit, he turned with a nod and forced smile. Kurt returned the gesture, not even trying to make him stay. He felt like an ass for being irked by that; he was well aware that he didn’t have any right to the other boy, and that he was well within his rights in saying no, but it felt like a personal failure somehow. Especially considering the reason. He wondered who had tattled, but if he was being honest with himself, he knew that he was one of the main energy suppliers to the rumor mill, and it could have been basically anyone who’d spent more than half a month at NYU.

He didn’t want to be honest with himself though. What he really wanted was to get shitfaced, and if anyone decided to go home with him anyway, good enough, but he wasn’t going to put forth any more effort tonight.

 

. . .

 

When Blaine woke up the next day, the first thing he noticed was that he was, thankfully, alone; he didn’t think he could deal with throwing out a random stranger with the way his head was thumping. The second thing was the reason why he’d woken up at such an ungodly hour: some really fucking obnoxious knocking on his wall. He also noticed he had no recollection of anything that happened after his decision to drink himself into oblivion, and briefly congratulated himself on a mission accomplished before cursing himself, and his neighbor, and making a mad dash to the toilet.

The unflattering (read: disgusting) sound of vomit hitting the porcelain of the toilet bowl echoed in the room and his head. The rhythmic “thud, thud, thud” of whatever his neighbor was doing against the wall wasn’t helping matters; he really could only think of one thing that would result in that noise, and he had high hopes that their stamina would give out soon – at least to the extent that they would’ve moved to the bed by the time he’d manage to resemble a human being enough to allow himself to go back to his human bed.

After brushing his teeth and showering quickly, as well as downing a couple of Tylenols with a pint of water, he did exactly that, but sleep evaded him as the thumping grew, if anything, even louder. Gritting his teeth in aggravation, he stood back up and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and his slippers to make his way over to thoroughly chew out the offender. A few hard knocks would do the trick of conveying the feeling before he could actually voice it, and give the person a fair warning they didn’t actually deserve, he figured. He was flattering himself on being nice when a middle-aged guy with a baseball cap and the most… well, ugly flannel shirt he’d ever seen opened. He gaped a bit at the scowl he was greeted with; he was the wronged party, for God’s sake!

“Whaddaya want?” the guy asked, his voice gruff and his tone about as welcoming as his looks.

“Uh, I – are you actually a student here?” Blaine sounded insultingly incredulous even to his own ears.

The man chuckled, though the sound didn’t hold much humor. “No. Now, what do you want?”

Grasping control of his bearings again, and his rage, the senior opened his mouth to speak. “Actually, could you stop with the noise? I don’t know what you’re doing in there, though I can guess,” he grimaced at the thought of the man having sex in any capacity, “but some of us had a late night and are trying to sleep.”

The guy just stared him down, his mouth in a grim line. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, “but I need to help my son get his room in order before catching my flight this afternoon. So actually, I’m not sorry at all.” Confirmed.

It was only then that Blaine dared to look behind the man, and saw the reason he had the worst hangover in about a year standing in the dorm room, a hammer and a wooden board in his hands. The conversation about their dorm rooms being right next to each other came back to him then, and he felt like slapping himself across the face.

“Oh… Kurt. Hi,” he greeted the pale teen stiffly after what would probably be considered an inordinate amount of gaping.

“Hello, Blaine,” Kurt replied, tension dripping from his voice and posture. “I’m sorry we’re bothering you, but my father won’t be convinced that I can actually set up a shelf and a closet on my own.” He glared fondly at the man in question, who chuckled again, although it sounded more jovial than before.

“So, let me state the obvious in saying you two know each other,” came Kurt’s father’s remark. The implied “how?” didn’t go unnoticed by Blaine.

“Yeah, uh, we, uh, we met last night,” Kurt stuttered, and Blaine had no clue why he sounded so nervous. It’s not like anything happened between them. He did enjoy the sight of his pale cheeks flushing red in broad daylight, though. “Dad, Blaine, Blaine, this is my dad, Burt Hummel.” They did the expected ‘nice to meet you’ dance, and Blaine tried his best not to wince when Kurt’s dad almost crushed his hand.

The three of them stood there in awkward silence. Blaine opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to think of something, anything, to say and break the ice, but in the end, he settled for a mumbled, “well, uh, yeah, nice to meet you,” and backing out of the doorway.

“We’re almost done, and then I’ll make sure to be extra quiet so you can sleep… Mr Luva-Luva,” Kurt added with a giggle. Burt’s eyebrows raised infinitesimally, like he didn’t want to acknowledge that he was thrown and confused by that comment in front of Blaine, but couldn’t help but make his feelings known in some way.

Blaine, in turn, just groaned, knowing all too well what gin did to him, and that he had to have consumed a lot of it the night before. “Don’t even tell me. I think I can do without the gory details,” he pleaded with Kurt, whose cerulean orbs were dancing with merriment. He idly thought that the teen’s eyes were positively stunning, and wondered whether “cerulean” actually did the whirlwind of colors justice.

“I won’t… but if you jump on any tables and start stripping to ‘You Can Leave Your Hat On’ again, I won’t stop anyone from filming it, no matter how tacky and unoriginal that song is. In fact, I’ll be in the front row, and my YouTube account has quite a few subscribers.”

“Oh my God, who let Sam choose the music?” Blaine groaned again, making Kurt giggle.

“Is Sam the guy who got up on the table with you? Because I gotta tell you, you could learn a lesson or two from him.”

Not even bothering to answer in his intense need to hide his shame, Blaine bolted from the room, his usually even, olive complexion tainted by a rare pink tinge. No sooner was he back in bed, hiding his face under the pillow and having pulled the blanket on top for good measure, did the thumping of what he now knew to be a hammer against the wall resume. However, Kurt seemed to have been almost done when he had stormed next door, as it stopped about a couple of minutes later. Blaine sighed in relief before closing his eyes and sleeping off the remnants of alcohol in his blood, as well as his embarrassment.


	2. You Swear You Heard Them Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the amazing response, people! Keep hitting the kudo button and subscribing, it's super uplifting to know your work is appreciated :)  
> Also, I wanted to get this out before the Season Premier airs to hopefully, you know, give people a bit of happy, funny Klaine, even if they only read it afterwards. May the Force be with us all.

A couple of weeks passed uneventfully. Blaine sometimes saw Kurt in the halls, and the boy always greeted him cheerfully, but it was all very superficial, his smile barely ever reaching his eyes. Blaine also noticed the frequent presence of one of the nerdy juniors on their floor, Elliott, who seemed to have hit it off with Kurt if the number of times he saw him wait outside his door was any indication. The problem was that, while he was nerdy, he didn’t look it. He could even pass off as simply smart and additionally tall, dark and handsome, and even somewhat cool and intriguing with his body jewelry and art. Kurt always seemed flustered around him, in the brief seconds Blaine allowed himself to look, because why would he want to look for more than a few seconds? There was nothing there, Kurt had made that clear, and he never gave any indication of wanting to establish their relationship further than that of casual neighbors.

Taking those circumstances into consideration, it made absolutely no sense whatsoever for Blaine to currently be pounding a punching bag into a metaphorical bloody pulp. It was even more bizarre that he had drawn a very bad kindergarten picture of Elliott, titled it “glitter rock vampire”, and had fastened it to the leather to make it easier to imagine the punching bag was actually his face. Why would he care that he had spotted the two of them at a coffee shop just outside of campus, giggling and speaking in hushed voices as Kurt allowed Elliott to touch his incredibly soft-looking forearm? He had no desire to test whether it was actually as soft as it looked, no Sir.

“Who’s that?” a voice that shouldn’t be as familiar as it was asked from his right, causing him to cease in his pummeling. Kurt stood there, arms folded, wearing yoga pants and a soft shirt, his hair held back by a headband. Blaine bit his lip and turned back to the punching bag, landing a few successive jabs and cursing internally, because Kurt didn’t look adorable or sexy or anything, Blaine definitely didn’t care for the way his narrow hips were encased by the waistband of his pants, begging for him to slide them down his thighs and –

He stopped, taking a few deep breaths. “I was assaulted by some punk vampire dude as a kid, and have been carrying deep psychological trauma with me ever since then. The only way I can deal with it is by imagining I’m punching the jerk right back.” He kept his tone sarcastic and indifferent, not revealing how close to the truth his admission was. Only he hadn’t been a kid exactly and it had been three jocks twice his size.

Kurt just continued to look at him with an unreadable expression. “I see,” he finally replied. “I just thought it looked like a really ugly version of Elliott, is all.”

“What version of Elliott isn’t ugly?” With his stupid fluffy hair and stupid crinkly smile and stupid eyes and stupid face and stupid piercings and tattoos that are just on the right side of edgy and his towering-over-Blaine-ness, Blaine added in his mind.

“You’re a real jackass, do you know that?”

“It sounds vaguely familiar.”

When awkward silence ensued around them, Blaine shifted his focus, feeling done with the conversation. He was just raising his fist when Kurt spoke up again.

“Well, why? I know you can be really sweet. I’ve been on the receiving end of your sweetness, and for some reason, I refuse to believe that was only because you were trying to get me naked.”

Blaine smiled, but didn’t shift to look at the pale teen, didn’t let the words floating around in his head take the shape of sounds coming from his mouth. He was aware of Kurt shuffling awkwardly but only spared him a side-glance when he heard him huff in frustration.

“Is he the one who warned you off me?” Blaine had to admit, that was a pretty good strategy. Maybe he’d have to try it at some point; get someone suspicious of someone else so they’ll see you as the trustworthy guy they can rely on to keep them safe. Only he usually didn't have to rely on such tactics.

“No, he isn’t. Not that it’s any of your business,” Kurt retorted, sounding thoroughly unimpressed.

“Well then, who was it?”

“You’re like a dog with a bone, do you know that?” the other boy snapped. “I came here to let you know that I’m not holding that against you and that I never did, I just let you know very politely that I wasn’t interested in becoming another notch in your belt, but of course you’re acting like my 6-year-old cousin!”

“So you came to apologize?”

“No!” Kurt exclaimed in frustration, voice becoming louder. “I don’t fucking have to apologize for not sleeping with you!”

“Who said I even wanted to sleep with you?”

“Well, didn’t you?!”

It was then that Blaine noticed he had left his spot by the bag and had come closer to Kurt, that he was now so close he could’ve, hypothetically, counted every damn one of Kurt’s freckles as they were illuminated by the artificial light the neon tubes in the ceiling dowsed them in. Only there were too many, and it would take hours, and he kept getting distracted by the milky white underneath their brown, and the eyelashes fanning out over those damn indefinably-colored orbs. Right now, they looked almost green, he mused, and was then distracted by the graceful slope of his nose, and the lush pink lips underneath, parted slightly, and it would be so, so easy to just lean in and suck the plush bottom one into his mouth.

And then he was biting down on it, the flesh paling slightly before he released it, and it bounced back to its original shape, only redder and – Blaine had to suppress a groan and almost did it, almost veered forward, until Kurt suddenly inhaled sharply and took a step backwards, blinking at him with wide eyes, still backing away, like Blaine was some rabid animal. Everything in Blaine deflated at the expression which, once again, reminded him that his advances were unwanted. He copied Kurt in taking a deep breath, and let it rush out of his lungs slowly, the motion making him crave a cigarette although he hadn’t smoked in months.

“I – I should go,” Kurt stuttered after a moment. Blaine was still doing his best to regain control of his bearings, the whirlwind of emotions battling each other in his chest making it hard for his lungs to heave in air.

“Y-yeah… I still need to put in some more time here, so…”

Kurt turned to leave, taking a few steps towards the exit as he pulled the headband from his hair and combed his fingers through it.

“Just so you know… Although it’s none of your business…” he mumbled, stopping his tracks. “I’m not dating Elliott. So you can stop mauling horribly drawn pictures of him.”

He took off swiftly, before Blaine could say a word in response, making the senior snarl in anger and frustration before he resumed knocking the living crap out of the lifeless leather sack hanging from the ceiling.

. . .

The Thursday night before classes were supposed to start back up again, Blaine had been invited to a party thrown by one of the dudes in Delta Lambda Phi, and had failed to remember he’d already banged that particular individual before both accepting and then showing up. The guy, Jamie, had apparently been under the impression that this constituted a date, given their former sexual history, and had subsequently gone off at him when he found him attempting to put the moves on one of his friends. Blaine had left before the situation could escalate, not really into the whole thing anyway, not really looking for another conquest.

It wasn’t until he was lying in bed, fully dressed, staring up at the ceiling and listening to Kurt’s bell-like laughter percolating through the wall, that he understood why he’d been so off his game. He preferred quality over quantity in his men, but he had been turning down a bunch of quality guys lately, failing to charm them like he usually would effortlessly, and he was slowly coming to the realization that the reason for this was the very same guy who had been his last real attempt at seduction.

More peals of laughter, this time accompanied by the deep vibrations of another man’s chuckle, then a melody which was more on the rock-side of pop rock, drowning out the sounds and Blaine… just wanted to fucking shoot himself. His heart plummeted, and that in and of itself was bad enough, but in addition to the sick feeling in his stomach, that weird feeling like his brain was literally trembling as it tried to refrain from giving commands along the lines of “storm over there and fucking take him, he’s yours!”, and the green hue generally enveloping him inside-out, he was in agony. He was just on that side of buzzed which wouldn’t allow him to sleep either, so he settled for screaming into his pillow, then grabbing his guitar and adding some music of his own, trying not to think of what might be happening next door, what noises the steady thump of drums might be cancelling out.

“I never once said I didn’t mean this,” he growled out, not noticing that the hubbub next door had stopped. “I can’t wait to see how this one gets out…”

The next lines he played kind of really hit home, but he just kept on belting. “You are the first to question my achievements; but that’s alright, my dreams I’ve been living…”

“Don’t hold your breath, I’m not losing sleep over you; I’m Mr Reckless, and you’re defenseless,” a clear, high voice suddenly took over the next line of the chorus. Blaine looked up in shock, his fingers over the strings faltering and producing an unpleasantly vibrating sound before he could get them to press down on the proper frets again.

“The best you never had, the best you never had,” Blaine kept on repeating, averting his gaze until the echo of last chord around them had run its course.

“How did you get in?” he asked after what he deemed was an appropriate stretch of silence.

“Your door was open,” Kurt replied, his tone deliberately light. Blaine put the guitar down and began to massage the bridge of his nose, cursing the faulty lock that always popped back open when he banged it close too hard.

He was about to ask Kurt what the hell he was doing in his room when he spoke up, “you have a really great voice. Has someone ever told you that?”

The last phrase struck a sense of déjà-vu in him because yeah, he’s been told, countless times, that he had “the stuff”. Too bad “the stuff” he had didn’t convince his mother that music was a legit career to follow.

“So do you,” he answered instead of voicing his thoughts. “Didn’t know you were into somewhat obscure British bands.” He left the ‘but then again, what do I really know about you?’ unsaid.

“Yeah, uh, I’m kind of a Royal Family nut, and obsessed with Great Britain in general, so…” the pale teen trailed off, still awkwardly shuffling in the doorway. Blaine cleared his throat.

“Did… did you wanna come in, hang out for a bit maybe?”

“Yeah… yeah, okay.”

They sat on the bed beside each other, both fiddling with their hands and staring down at their laps until Blaine broke the tension with a chuckle, recognizing this as his one chance to prove himself, to make amends.

“I’m about to apologize, and I wanted to warn you because I haven’t apologized to anyone in a long, long time, so I’m not sure how good it will turn out to be.”

“You’re on the right track already. Go on,” Kurt encouraged him with a small grin.

“Well… I’m sorry. You were right, of course I approached you hoping you’d come back to my room with me… but…” He bit his lip, unsure if he should continue.

But when Kurt looked at him with those wide eyes, blinking innocently in his confusion, he couldn’t not go on. He reminded himself that this was his chance, and he plowed on through.

“I don’t know, there is just… something about you,” he began, and very nearly slapped himself across the face for how stupid and generic that sounded. “I mean… you’re intriguing. Not just your looks, I genuinely wanted to talk to you and that’s not something I usually… do.”

Kurt was quiet for a beat before he burst into laughter. “Wow, you were right – you are awful at apologizing.” Blaine flushed red and scowled, embarrassed. “But… I appreciate the sentiment, and I think I know what you mean, sort of. It’s just funny because everyone keeps talking about how smooth you are, but they’ve never seen the version of you that is sort of adorably bumbling, have they?”

Blaine didn’t dare to hope that his assessment that the freshman was smiling at him almost… fondly was right. That would be too good to be true, and probably crush him if it turned out he was wrong. Literally crush him, and he wasn’t being dramatic at all, thank you very much. Wait…

“Adorable?” he quipped with a half-smirk, making it Kurt’s turn to flush and fumble for words in embarrassment.

“I mean… yeah? Kinda. But, Blaine… I’m not interested in… that. I don’t want a quick roll in the sack and then be sent on my merry way again. It’s probably stupid, but –“

“It’s not stupid,” Blaine countered, actually kind of surprised it was his own voice he heard make that admission. “It’s… you’re a romantic, and there’s nothing wrong with that, right? Just like there’s nothing wrong with me being… me.”

Kurt chuckled, the sound softer than earlier when he’d been laughing at him but somehow just as endearing. “Yeah. You’re absolutely right. So… friends?”

Blaine smiled through the feeling like being drenched in icy water, and nodded. “Friends. Sure. Yeah.” And then, after a moment, “so, do your friends get your phone number and maybe get to invite you for coffee tomorrow?”

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought as he watched Kurt’s face cloud over with apprehension, just a tiny little bit, like maybe he wasn’t even aware of it himself.

“You know, to buy my way into your good graces and make the apology official,” he added, hoping to make Kurt laugh, or his remarkable eyes sparkle, again.

“Of course.” He held out his hand for Blaine’s phone, and the senior scrambled to get it off his nightstand and into the pale hand. If he let his own tan one accidentally-on-purpose brush the soft skin to get a tiny taste and appease his curiosity, well, no one had to know.

Blaine was pleasantly surprised when Kurt didn’t immediately leave, but instead agreed to stay a bit longer and jam with him before excusing himself to his room with a smile and a promise of, “see you tomorrow.”

He would never admit it, but Blaine did a tiny little huge jump and victory dance the second his door clicked close. Taking a moment to compose himself, he grabbed his phone and fired off a text before he could second-guess himself.

**I forgot to say… sweet dreams –B**

It only took a few seconds for a reply to come in.

**Hah, thank you! Now I can sleep without fear of sour dreams. –K**

**I live to serve. –B**

**Noted :D Good night. –K**

He did not hide his face in his hands and giggle giddily as he fell back on his bed. Absolutely not.


	3. That Is The Guy Who Makes The Biggest Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow-eeee people. Thank you again, thank you so much for giving me the motivation to keep posting. Seriously, your response (and mmerainbows excellent listening skills and constant reassurance that I'm awesome) are what's gotten me through this hell of a week. I love you; keep the comments and kudos and bookmarks and subscriptions coming, hehe!
> 
> Edit: hoooly fuck, AncientGleek drew my attention to the fact that I mentioned self-harm and didn't tag. I am so, so sorry about that. It's just a little mention when Blaine starts talking about Kurt opening up, but to anyone who read this and felt uncomfortable (or worse), I am so very sorry! If it reappears as planned as another tiny mention in Chapter 6, I'll definitely warn you.

Friday morning saw Blaine Anderson up, dressed, and sitting in a coffee shop half an hour before he was even supposed to meet Kurt. He had woken up at 7, and in his fear of oversleeping, hadn't been able to conk out again. He had been ready by 8, and paced his room until he couldn't take the claustrophobic feeling anymore and went for a walk. By 9:30, he thought it was late enough that it wouldn't be pathetic for him to wait inside the shop anymore and entered, walking up to the counter and ordering a medium drip before sitting down at a table to wait. His foot was tapping a nervous staccato against the table leg as he fiddled with his phone, trying to focus on playing 94 seconds but scoring poorly, until suddenly, a paper cup clattered down on the table and a chair scraped across the floor.

"Hi. Sorry I'm late, did you have to wait long?" Kurt sounded breathless; his cheeks were flushed a beautiful rosy pink, his eyes were vibrant in their shimmer, and a strand of hair had come loose from his artful coif to dangle over his forehead. Blaine's breath hitched at the sight.

"H-hi. Uh… not, not at all. I was early," Blaine stammered. "So, uh, coffee?"

Kurt picked up his cup and shook it a bit with a smile. Blaine barely suppressed the urge to bang his head into the table repeatedly.

"Sorry I didn't ask if you wanted a refill. It's physically impossible for me to enter a coffee shop and not order my non-fat mocha right away," Kurt joked. "I could get up and get you one now, though…?"

"No, no, that's fine. Yours was supposed to be on me, but I wasn't sure what you liked and-"

"Blaine. It's fine." Silence ensued around them, and Blaine wondered whether it would always be this awkward unless they were fighting or singing. Speaking of…

"So, why are you not enrolled in the musical program?"

Kurt sipped his coffee and closed his eyes, just briefly, on the tiniest moan. "God, this stuff is so much better than anything they had to offer in Ohio," he commented, almost to himself, then blinked up at Blaine, as if he was remembering only then that he was there with him. "Oh. Yeah, I actually thought about it, but I would've wanted to go down the musical theater route. I decided that if I got into NYADA, I'd pursue that, and if I didn't, I'd apply for fashion design as another option. I actually got into Parsons as well, but NYU offered me a 75%-scholarship and it's still super renowned, so… here I am."

"Here you are," Blaine repeated with a soft smile. "So NYADA was a bust? I can hardly believe that, you're like… really good."

Kurt's answering grin was somewhat pained. "Yeah, well… I was a finalist and my audition was technically perfect, if I say so myself, and Ms. Tibideaux was impressed, but apparently, I lacked 'emotional depth'. I don't know how I was supposed to show emotional depth with 'Not The Boy Next Door', but it's what ultimately got me rejected."

"Seriously? Hugh Jackman? Did you wear those super tight gold pants, too?" Blaine teased, and his eyes widened when Kurt smirked with a nod.

"Yupp. Golden pants, hip thrusts, acrobatic dance moves, the whole nine yards."

Blaine's eyes completely involuntarily roamed over what he could see of Kurt, the parts that weren't hidden away behind the table they were sat at. "I'd give anything to see that." His voice was low and gravelly, and when he looked up at Kurt, he could see that his breath was coming somewhat shallowly and his eyes had taken on a grey hue.

"Maybe," he quipped, voice carefully controlled. "Someday, maybe."

A smile broke out on Blaine's face and Kurt snorted when he saw it, and then they were both laughing, the moment and any possible discomfort arising from it broken, and Blaine couldn't help but be grateful because that was the (almost) best way this could have worked out.

They talked a bit more, about their respective homes ("Shut up! That's two hours away from where I grew up!"), their mutual love for Broadway musicals ("I saw that Rent poster, Blaine Anderson, don't even try to deny it." –"I wouldn't dream of it, Hummel."), and Kurt even broached the subject of his mother, who had died when he was 8 and who'd awoken his love both for music and fashion, who had always let him play dress-up with her and had left him the piano they used to sit at for hours, playing and singing The Beatles. It was clear he loved her very dearly even now, 10 years later with barely any memories of her fully intact, as he admitted in a hoarse voice. Blaine rested his hand on his, letting his fingertips graze his wrists and told him how beautiful and amazing she sounded, and that she'd be proud he carried her legacy with him, even if his memory of her had become hazy.

The smile breaking out on Kurt's face as a result made him feel like he had just amended every wrong he ever committed in his life. It didn't hurt that he still had a grasp on Kurt's hand, and the teen hadn't withdrawn it or yelled at him for being a sexually harassing creep yet. Instead, he turned it beneath his so their palms were connected; Blaine was tempted to lace their fingers together, but figured he was lucky enough to have gotten this much already and shouldn't push it too far. He was astonished, truly astonished, about how much he was reverting back to the insecure teenager he once was; but unlike with his one-night-stands, he was vaguely aware that this thing between Kurt and him had the potential of becoming something great, that he was on the cusp of discovering something he would regret leaving uncharted.

It was with an obvious startle that Kurt noticed the time, and cursed under his breath, looking at Blaine apologetically, who in turn just smiled sadly.

"I'm guessing you have to go?"

"Yeah, I'm so sorry, I promised I'd meet Elliott for lunch…" Kurt bit his lip and looked at Blaine as if he was gauging his reaction. The man in question closed his face off and cleared his throat.

"Oh, yeah, you shouldn't keep him waiting. Doesn't do to be late for dates."

"It's friends going to lunch, Blaine, calm down."

"I'm chill!" Blaine protested with raised hands. "It's not like I have any claim over you anyway, so why would I be upset?"

"You're right, you don't have a claim over me. But I'm still telling you there's no need to be jealous, because it couldn't be more obvious that you are," Kurt retorted, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Blaine nodded. "I know. I know, it's just…" He sighed. Time to act like the grown-up he was supposed to be. "You… are a league of your own. I know we're friends, or whatever, but… I feel connected to you, I guess. It's sort of weird, actually. Maybe you should forget I said anything." So much for acting like a grown-up.

Kurt averted his gaze and blushed. He was so lovely, Blaine barely dared to look at him, and it wasn't even because he had just thoroughly embarrassed himself.

"I… thank you, Blaine," he began, staring at the floor. Blaine tilted his head and was about to reply that Kurt was very welcome, he supposed, when the pale boy continued. "I know what you mean." His eyes were blazing when he met the hazel, disbelieving ones across from him. "But I need time. I can't just jump into this. Hell, this entire conversation is more of a jump than I had planned. I thought we could go for coffee a few times, maybe have lunch or dinner or just hang out here and there before we even bring this up."

Blaine stood from his chair and sat down on the one next to Kurt instead of across from him, then scooted even closer to grasp his hands in his. This time, he did interlace their fingers, consequences be damned.

"We can go as slow as you need to. We'll start off just like you said, and we'll see where that leads us. Sound good?"

The hands in his squeezed, gently and briefly, and Blaine smiled softly as he returned the gesture.

"Yes. Yes, that sounds really good," Kurt admitted, his own shy smile adorning his angelic features.

He left with promises of texting Blaine later, and the senior couldn't help but jump a bit in his seat and fist-pump when he exited through the door, not even caring a little bit about the stares he got from his fellow patrons.

* * *

A few weeks passed, and Blaine had established a standing coffee date with Kurt on Tuesday and Thursday mornings before the Intro to Business Administration class Kurt attended and Blaine tutored. They also met for lunch most Fridays, when the freshman didn't have meetings with the Fashion Business Club. In addition to that, they hung out a lot in the evenings and on the weekends, just talking, or watching movies and trashy reality TV shows, or sometimes jamming. From time to time, Elliott would join them for the latter, and Blaine would be lying if he said he didn't mind when he did. It wasn't even simply that he turned green at the way Kurt smiled at him, so beautifully, so unreserved; it was that when Elliott was around, it seemed harder for Kurt to open up. He became distant, his interactions allowing just a shallow scratch on the surface of his real self. When he was alone with Blaine, they didn't always talk about meaningful things because they both thought that was exhausting, but they did talk about topics other than fashion or music or the latest gossip or funnies out of the life of Kurt's oaf of a step-brother.

Kurt told him, for example, about his history with said step-brother; how he used to toss him into dumpsters along with his fellow Neanderthals because he sounded girly and dressed like the gay weirdo he was and he was ugly and they therefore couldn't stand the sight of him, and that's why they needed to punish him. Needless to say, Blaine tried his best to reassure Kurt that neither of those statements held any truth to them, to which Kurt responded with a trembling smile and a shaky, "I know. I know that now. I just wish I had 3 years ago."

He had also shown Blaine the scars on his forearms – the result of his ignorance, and it was all Blaine could do not to try and kiss each one of them better as he lightly trailed his fingertips over the faded mark, listening to Kurt tell him that he'd stopped a few months after he'd joined Glee Club, and letting him know in return how proud he was of him. Kurt tried to downplay it by telling him that the reason why he had a single room was that he still felt somewhat skittish around people he didn't know, and self-conscious, and that sometimes it got really bad. His Dad knew, so he'd pulled some strings afforded to him by his status as Congressman and that was how Kurt had gotten on the same floor as "the seniors and nerdy juniors," as he reminded Blaine of his wording from the night they'd met.

Blaine, in turn, told Kurt all about how he'd basically grown up with a nanny, his parents always too preoccupied with the family business, his older brother too busy chasing girls to really care about, let alone care for him at all. He told him how his parents were really only still married on paper, but that his father hadn't even been back to the States in several years, and that his mother had stopped wearing the ring around the house, should she ever be there, where no one could judge her for her naked finger. He also didn't spare any details when it came to his coming-out story and the mess that followed the admission that he was gay; his mother especially had done anything, pulled every crappy trick from the 'how to not react when your kid tells you they're gay' book there was, from threatening him with bible camp to putting him in very awkward situations with her business partners' daughters. Eventually, he managed to forge some kind of truce with her, wherein he never asked for more than the generous allowance he was given, and in return, never called or visited or expected to speak with her unless she was the one to initiate contact.

Kurt looked devastated at the mere idea, and Blaine understood after everything he'd told him about his father and how close they'd gotten over the past couple of years, but he tried to soothe him by telling him that really? It was all he knew.

He did get a really long and heartfelt hug out of it though.

So all in all, Blaine thought that when Elliott wasn't around, Kurt was more transparent, felt more confident and safe in sharing important tidbits of his life and of who he was with Blaine. That's why he preferred when the junior didn't invite himself to sit at their table with them, or just came knocking on Kurt's door when they were pretending to watch a movie but were really just talking throughout the entire duration of it. However, he found that when he overlooked the seething jealousy and unreasonable annoyance Elliott seemed to invoke in him, he actually liked the guy; he was fun and laid-back, and refreshingly reasonable, almost always unperturbed by the drama which resulted from piling a bunch of teenagers together in a house.

And drama there was, especially when it came to him and Kurt. People had spotted them on their first coffee date, and not even 12 hours later the whispers had taken on a buzzing quality, following him everywhere he went like a swarm of bees. Kurt noticed, of course, but he tried to act like he didn't care the entire student body thought they were sleeping together – at first, at least.

Until one day, on another Friday afternoon, as they were sitting in a diner devouring burgers, one of Blaine's "exes" spotted them and stepped over to their table.

"Well isn't that cute. Looks like you got a… girlfriend?" the tall guy, Blaine thought his name might have been Jeremiah, jeered, looking down his nose at Kurt. "I'm honestly not sure. Tell me, did you switch sides, Anderson?"

Kurt glared at him, the effect impressive even though he was sitting and… Jeremiah? was hovering above him.

"Don't you need to go tend to your enormous horse teeth?" Kurt shot back, making Blaine chortle.

"Easy, Betty White, I just came over here to have a chat with a dear old friend of mine," guy-whose-name-Blaine-wasn't-sure-about retorted with a smug grin.

"Look, dude," Blaine began, trying to dissolve the situation before it got out of hand, but unable to completely reign in the anger he felt at Kurt being insulted, "we're just trying to eat, and you're being an annoying, rude shit, so why don't you, you know, scram?"

"You don't even remember his name, do you?" Kurt stage-whispered next to him. The guy's face was priceless when he saw Blaine mouth an emphatic, "no clue."

"Whatever, Anderson. It's not like I'm losing sleep over you either. No one really wants to be associated with your rep. Betty White here only hangs out with you because she doesn't realize what a joke you are, and because she's an idiot who thinks she'll be the one exception to your rule."

Kurt suddenly jumped up, fists clenched at his sides as he got really close to the guy.

"Listen here, you fucking shit, and you can relay what I'm about to say to every one of your mindless cronies who don't seem to be able to think farther than one foot ahead of them," he snarled, his arms shaking, and Blaine idly wondered if he was refraining from punching the bastard as he stared at the pale man in awe. "The real joke is you, and everyone whose life is so empty that all you can think to talk about is Blaine and me. You're bitter because he won't give you the time of day once he's done with you for the night, and do you know why that is? Because there's nothing about you, any of you, that's worth it during the day. So why don't you run along and continue your pathetic existence elsewhere, huh?"

The guy laughed, the sound derisive, like he was covering up the hurt he felt from Kurt's words with the gesture. "Sure, Betty. You go believe that while you prance around with the biggest manwhore in town and become the most notorious dimwit at NYU for it. Guys like him never change."

Before either of them could reply, the guy returned to his own seat, sitting with his back to them. Kurt glowered at the bend of his spine as Mr. Horse Teeth leaned over the table, the people around him speaking in hushed voices that started to carry the more outrageous the – no doubt fake – retelling of their encounter became.

"No way!" one of the girls, an over-styled fake blonde wearing leopard-print tights, shouted and unsubtly glanced over at them. "That's gotta be the dumbest guy who has ever been admitted to college, and –"

One of her friends nudged her in the arm, causing her to lower her voice again.

"Wow," Blaine commented under his breath, chuckling in disbelief. He grabbed one of Kurt's hands and stroked his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it in an attempt to calm him down. The blue-eyed beauty's blazing gaze caught his, and mellowed once they registered the soothing smile playing on his lips. "You're better than all of them, okay?"

"I know. I just hoped I wouldn't have to deal with the constant drama; I hoped people would be more mature here, but no. It's like McKinley 2.0, bigger and better and even more tragic." He leaned back in his seat with a sigh, covering Blaine's hand holding his with his own free one. "Let's get out of here. We can get this bagged and take it to my room and watch the new episode of How To Get Away With Murder."

Blaine grinned and nodded, and a few minutes later they were on their way out, Kurt flipping the guy from earlier off when he waved them off sarcastically.


	4. If You Let Me Be Your First, I Swear I'll Be Your Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, again, for the amazing response! I need to get to sleep and this isn't really edited, so I hope it's not complete crap. For now, read this monster of a chapter; it's almost as long as the entire story so far. And warnings for smut smut mcsmutty smut, Muse, and bottom!Kurt since that apparently requires warnings now. Without further ado...  
> Edit: I should probably also add that I meant for this to be a mini-fic, but if you'd like to prompt for "BTS" stuff (or anything else), you can do that and I'll write it if my Muse allows it :)

Blaine almost did it that afternoon.

It was a few weeks after the incident at the restaurant. Kurt and he had been eating some Chinese takeout, settled on his bed with his laptop to catch up on their shows on Netflix. At some point, however, he had stopped paying attention to what he was supposed to be watching and instead started staring at Kurt, stared at his expressive eyes that conveyed every bit of emotion he felt as he watched the events on the screen, stared at the graceful slope of his nose, his pink lips curving up in a smile when something funny happened, turning down at the corners when something displeased or confused him, at his creamy shoulders, exposed by the fashionable sweater he was wearing.

And then he had almost blurted what he’d never meant to say, at least not that way. He almost didn’t care that he had plans of how he’d say those words, and that none of the scenarios he ever imagined would remotely resemble reality. He felt about ready to explode with the weight of the feeling in his chest, with the way it throbbed and made him tingle all the way to his fingertips and toes, made him want to reach out and touch, touch, take, and most importantly, turn. Turn himself in, confess all his crimes and all his desires and give himself to someone; well, no, not just someone – him. Kurt.

But then Kurt had turned his head towards him, looked at him with that bubblegum smile, and asked, “God, can you believe that actual scriptwriters came up with a storyline like that and thought ‘yes wow that’s great, let’s do that’? I swear, maybe I’m going into the wrong business if it’s that easy to break into TV.”

So now Blaine was laughing, because what Kurt said was true, but also to cover up the emotional turmoil inside of him; and it helped, because he was desperate to control himself and not do anything stupid, like lean over and just kiss Kurt. Kurt deserved to be courted and wooed and have every single one of his romantic fantasies fulfilled.

“Elliott invited me to this karaoke party tonight,” Kurt suddenly blurted, and was it Blaine’s imagination or did his cheeks turn slightly pink at the admission?

“Yeah? Well, that’s probably going to be fun, don’t you think?”

Kurt nodded and hummed his agreement, suddenly incredibly shy, reminiscent of the days when their friendship had still been in its blossoming stages. He was drilling holes in the comforter with the intensity of his gaze, before he turned it back up and focused it on Blaine instead. The curly-haired man’s breath hitched a bit at the sight.

“Would be more fun if you tagged along…”

“Yeah?” Blaine gulped, but he wasn’t sure if it was noticeable enough for Kurt to realize.

“Yeah… I mean… For you, too. I could be your wingman,” the teen attempted to joke over the tension in his voice. In turn, Blaine laid his hands on his shoulders, stroking over the milky skin.

“Kurt… I don’t need a wingman.”

“You do well enough on your own, I know. I just thought I’d offer my services.”

Without thinking, Blaine gently took a hold of Kurt’s face, just moved a hand from his shoulder to his cheek, as he kept their eyes locked. He wasn’t pushed away, so he kept it there even when he did become aware of what he was doing.

“No…” A deep breath, preparation indicative of the plunge Blaine was about to take. “I don’t need a wingman because I don’t want or need another meaningless one-night-stand, not anymore. I haven’t wanted to get in bed with anyone since the second I laid eyes on you.”

Kurt’s eyes were sparkling, his lips slightly parted as he inhaled a shallow, tiny gasp. His gaze kept darting from Blaine’s eyes to his lips and back again, only to resume the dance all over, and his hand came up to cover Blaine’s on his cheek.

And then, just as he was about to lean in and finally taste those candy lips, a loud knock sounded on the door.

“Kurt! Kurt, open up, I have found the best song ever for us to sing tonight, and we need to practice it because there’s always music majors around to criticize everyone who takes the stage! And it’ll be perfect to get Blaine to–“

In two quick strides, Kurt had crossed the entirety of the tiny dorm room and ripped open the door. Blaine imagined his face probably looked downright terrifying as he positively growled a, “what?” from between clenched teeth. The senior waved at Elliott, who looked flabbergasted at the sight of him casually reclining on the bed, the sheets obviously rumpled and showing dents where Kurt had been lying next to him.

“Sorry,” Elliott mumbled and backed away with his hands up by his shoulders. “So sorry, pretend I was never here.”

Kurt sighed and cast Blaine a questioning look over his shoulder; at his nod, he opened the door further. “No, come in. We were just catching up on some shows.”

Elliott made to protest, but one look at Kurt’s face and he shut his mouth and nodded before entering the room. He gave Blaine, who was moving up the bed to sit against the headboard, a tentative smile, and he returned it, even if it didn’t completely reach his eyes. Kurt settled on one of the two chairs in the room and gestured for his tattooed friend to take a seat, and Elliott chose the one next to Blaine with wide, apologetic eyes.

The air around them was strained as they sat in silence and pretended to watch the events unfolding on the laptop screen, until finally, Blaine couldn’t take it anymore and stood.

“I have some homework to get done, and I should probably get ready for tonight, too. You cool with me tagging along?” he directed his question at Elliott and got an overly enthusiastic nod in response. Kurt smiled softly.

“Meet us here at around 8:30 for the pre-gaming, okay?”

Blaine agreed and left, proud of himself for waiting until he had successfully shut the door behind him before doing his, by now nearly patented, flailing victory dance.

He was aware it hadn’t been perfect, but he also knew now that Kurt was not as indifferent to him as it may seem, knew they’d have kissed if they hadn’t been interrupted, and he considered that a huge win.

. . .

 

They were drunk. All three of them, as well as the people around them, they were all spectacularly, still pleasantly, not yet teetering on the edge of vomiting, drunk – except for that one guy in the corner, who had passed out and whose pants had a stain on the front suggesting something much more awful and embarrassing than throwing up had happened to him.

They met a few of Elliott’s and Kurt’s friends at the party, and Blaine was currently being bothered by a Latina chick by the name of Santana, who had apparently attended high school with Kurt. Blaine had heard a few of the stories, and he was well-aware why Santana seemed to have taken a special interest in his background, specifically with other guys, as well as distinctly grateful for it, but it was still somewhat grating. He had come to have a good time. Besides, it wasn’t like Kurt had given any indication about what may or may not have happened earlier in his room all night; he’d stayed away from Blaine, deliberately sat at the other end of their table, and barely made eye contact as he seemed to have the fucking time of his life. Blaine was beginning to think he’d made up the whole thing in his head.

He smiled in relief when Santana’s girlfriend, Dani, came to whisk her away to the makeshift dancefloor, hearing her yell over the sounds of someone butchering “Bohemian Rhapsody” that, “Elliott already checked him out, okay? Kurt’s good, don’t worry.”

Blaine, in his hazy state of mind, was still figuring out what she could have possibly meant when Kurt appeared at his side, nursing what looked like some fruity cocktail, his lips wrapped around the straw, and how was that so fucking enticing that Blaine had to conjure up images of his grandmother knitting to fight the growing tightness of his pants?

“I’m up next,” he spoke right next to his ear; Blaine tried his best to suppress the shiver threatening to run down his spine.

“You’ll kill this thing.” There. Encouragement. That was what Kurt was probably after.

The boy in question smirked at him, his face concealing some mystery Blaine obviously wasn’t in on as he sauntered away, his hips swaying, drawing attention to the sweet curve of his ass in those skintight jeans and shit. Grandma. Grandma. Grandma running around topless at the last Anderson pool party slash barbecue slash let’s compare our achievements thing. Fuckity fuck fuck. No, don’t think of fucking, he admonished himself and hid his face in his hands as he groaned in frustration.

“Next up, Kurt Hummel and Elliott Gilbert with ‘Undisclosed Desires’ by Muse!”

The crowd whooped and cheered as the two of them took the stage, Elliott grinning confidently at Kurt and nudging him as he whispered something in his ear while the first few bars of the song played.

Elliott ended up taking the first verse, and Blaine caught a few girls half-jokingly fanning themselves as he played the crowd, but his eyes kept darting back to Kurt as he provided the occasional line as back-up.

Then, the second verse started up and Kurt took the mic, stepping into the spotlight and immediately locking eyes with Blaine. His hips swiveled minutely as he danced across the stage in lithe movements, his voice rougher and lower than usual as he looked at Blaine, his gaze unwavering.

“You may be a sinner  
But your innocence is mine…”

He was practically purring the song, his eyes half-lidded as he begged Blaine to “please me, show me how it’s done,” and someone elbowed Blaine and hissed something about drool to him, but he barely registered anything but the beautiful boy up on that stage as he and Elliott took the chorus again. Kurt’s voice caressed his skin, enveloped him in a fog of need and desire as he watched him do something that wasn’t really dancing anymore, something he could maybe only describe as crawling seductively while standing upright. He was so far gone, so fixated on Kurt and on returning his hot stare, that it didn’t even occur to him to be jealous of the other man singing with him.

By the time they had finished, Blaine was hard, desperate, and sweating, the curls on his forehead and in the nape of his neck frizzing slightly with it. Kurt bounced over to their table to applause and hoots from the crowd, while Elliott had disappeared to… somewhere. Blaine couldn’t honestly say that he cared.

“Did you like it?” Kurt asked, breathless and with dark eyes, spots of color high on his cheeks, no doubt there because of the alcohol and the heat of the room and that damn ‘dancing’ he’d just done.

Blaine gulped and couldn’t do anything but nod, his fists clenched in his lap, both as a reminder to himself that he couldn’t just grab the boy and strip him naked there and then and to cover up the obvious erection tenting his pants. Kurt looked down briefly, and when their eyes met once more, that fucking smirk had taken over his features, the one which made Blaine want to sing odes to the gods for creating a creature as beautiful as the boy currently leaning forward, no doubt to be heard over the noise of the unlucky amateur following Kurt (and Elliott’s) mind-blowing performance.

“Let’s dance,” Kurt shouted at the same time Blaine said, “I need to get out of here.”

Kurt’s face fell a bit, and Blaine wanted to kick himself in the nuts for it, but he really, really doubted that he’d be able to handle dancing with Kurt in his current state. Also, he was sure that Kurt was aware of his little, or, well, big situation, and could not fathom what would possess him to ask him to dance in that moment. He was a dude. He should get it.

“Okay,” the teen sighed and, looking around a bit and seemingly catching someone’s eye for a moment, he added, “I’ll come with you. I don’t think Elliott is going back to his room tonight,” he nodded towards the man, currently grinding with another guy, “and I don’t wanna walk home alone. If that’s okay with you?”

Blaine mumbled his agreement and they both went the rounds to say goodbye to their table. Santana and Kurt had some hissed conversation, both wearing glares that would probably make an army of assassins cower and flee. Kurt threw up his hands at some point and said something else to her Blaine couldn’t make out before joining him and tugging on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Can we leave now? Please?”

Blaine gave a last wave to the group of people, thinking to himself that he’d be lucky if he remembered a single name in the morning, and led Kurt outside. The teen didn’t let go of his elbow, and Blaine could feel it tingling from the touch. His hard-on had died down a bit but he was sure that if Kurt’s fingers continued to trail lines of fire over his arm through the thin layer of his shirt, it would soon be revived.

Suddenly, Kurt let go and jumped up on a narrow, short wall rising on the curb beside them. He tried to keep his balance as he walked along the path it created and kept stumbling, shrieks of his laughter echoing around them in the night, making Blaine himself grin. He was only slightly tipsy by this point, and recognized what Kurt was doing was probably a bit dangerous, so he held out his hand in an offer of support.

“C’mon, I don’t want you keeling over and hitting your head and dying,” he clarified when Kurt just looked at it suspiciously. Seemingly mollified, he took a hold of it, and let Blaine help stabilize him.

He didn’t pull away once the stretch of wall had ended and he was back on even ground.

He even tightened his grip as he let them swing between them.

Although Blaine was dying to inquire after the meaning of this gesture, no words were spoken between them until they were outside Blaine’s dorm room. The curly-haired senior made to finally disengage their hands, causing Kurt to stiffen and thus, Blaine to reconsider the action. The teen looked down at their hands and back up at Blaine’s face, biting his lip contemplatively and then suddenly, moving in, so close their chests were touching.

“Would you dance with me now?” he breathed, peering into Blaine’s eyes with his own stormy gray ones.

Blaine swallowed, hard, closing his own eyes to escape the force of Kurt’s stare.

“Shouldn’t you go to bed?” he whispered, unconsciously leaning into the touch of arms enveloping him without a warning, hands stroking at the base of his spine and the back of his head.

“Open your eyes, Blaine,” Kurt mumbled instead of answering his question, and Blaine complied, coming face to face with a smatter of freckles across the bridge of a nose, and long lashes encasing a pair of stunning eyes swirling with color.

His breath hitched at the sight, at the feeling of hot puffs of air against his lips and nose as Kurt came closer still, their mouths only separated by a hairbreadth.

And the time for thinking rationally, for all his laid-out plans, might come, but it wasn’t now; it wasn’t this moment, when he leaned forward to close the space between them and finally slanted his lips over Kurt’s plump pink ones.

It was hesitant at first, just a small press, Blaine’s right hand unconsciously finding Kurt’s cheek to hold him there as the teen himself wrapped both his arms around his neck. Their mouths moved tentatively against each other until, with a deep inhale, Blaine caught the beautiful boy’s bottom lip between his and started to gently suckle on the sensitive flesh. Kurt moaned, his fingers twisting in Blaine’s hair and tugging at the curls, his tongue cautiously peeking out to lick at the seam of Blaine’s lips.

Blaine reacted by growling low in his throat and grabbing Kurt by the hips to force him back against the wall. Their lips momentarily disconnected, and Kurt smirked, making him emit a strangled sound before he pushed himself against him, trapping him between the wall and his body. On his next dive in, he didn’t hesitate to plunge his tongue into his mouth, licking at the ridge behind his teeth before tangling it with Kurt’s. Swallowing Kurt’s moan, his grasp on his hips tightened as he thrust his own forward, the prominent bulge in his pants meeting Kurt’s and making them both groan out loud again. The teen’s hands helplessly grappled over Blaine’s back, clenching and unclenching in his shirt as he searched for something to hold onto, their tongues and lips dancing, his taste, tainted by the alcohol on his breath but still so delicious, overtaking Blaine’s senses and pumping more blood into his groin.

He was just removing his lips from Kurt’s to latch onto the skin of his neck when a loud crash echoed from around the corner of the hallway, followed by a hissed curse.

It wasn’t much; they both barely glanced the way the noise had come before they heard a door shut, indicating the perpetrator had retired to his room, but it was enough to shock Blaine out of his lust-induced haze. He looked back at Kurt, took in his kiss-swollen lips and the dark blush on his cheeks, and barely managed to take the necessary step backwards to give himself some space to think again.

Kurt, in turn, just stared, his face unfathomable as he stepped to the side and enlarged the distance between them. Blaine didn’t know what he’d done wrong, but he was sure he had somehow fucked up royally. He started nibbling on his lip anxiously as Kurt made his way to his room.

“Good night, Blaine,” he spoke softly as Blaine copied him, opening up his own door while Kurt was still standing with his hand on the knob of his.

“Good night, Kurt,” he mumbled in response and shut the door softly behind him. With a long-suffering sigh, he let his head thump back against the knock-off wood, just resting it there for a moment as he tried to make sense of his jumbled thoughts. When he realized, a few moments later, that that wasn’t going to happen, he went into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

It was only when he came out, freshly showered, shirtless with his hair still sopping and his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, that he realized someone was knocking insistently on his door. He had a pretty good idea of who was on the other side, and sure enough, when he flung it open, Kurt was standing there, nervously wringing his hands.

“I lost my key. Or maybe forgot it in my room. I’m not sure,” he mumbled, not looking up at Blaine. “Could I, uh, maybe stay here tonight, until I can call maintenance in the morning?”

Blaine wordlessly stepped to the side, waving his hand in invitation, and Kurt walked inside, still mumbling as he thanked Blaine. The tension between them was palpable, making the awkwardness nearly unbearable as the senior gave the younger boy a pair of sweatpants, a shirt, as well as some unused boxers and a toothbrush he hadn’t broken in yet.

“I’ll sleep on the air mattress,” Blaine clarified when he saw Kurt eye the bed uncertainly. His eyes widened and he shook his head in disagreement of the idea.

“No, no, you take your bed. No, don’t argue with me, Blaine Anderson,” he said when he saw Blaine open his mouth to protest. “You’re being nice enough as it is. Please, I’d feel bad if you slept on the floor.”

Looking grim and not in the mood to argue, Blaine nodded and went to make up the makeshift bed for Kurt while the other boy left to shower. He was already in bed, now wearing a shirt for propriety, when Kurt got out, carrying with him the smell of shampoo and shower gel. Blaine watched him in the act of rustling his spare sheets and wrapping them around his lithe form. It made something in his chest ache, Kurt in his clothes, in his sheets, smelling of him, but he knew it wasn’t real, so he turned his back to him to block out the thoughts and ideas forming in his mind, the what-ifs that, at least for now, wouldn’t wander into the realm of ‘are’s.

So Blaine stared at the wall beside his bed for what seemed like hours, listening to the quiet sounds of Kurt shifting and sniffling in what he assumed was sleep – until the pale teen suddenly spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically hoarse.

“Blaine? Are you still awake?”

Blaine hummed his affirmation, not turning around yet, waiting to see what it was Kurt wanted.

“Can I – just tonight… Can I sleep in your bed with you?”

This made Blaine finally jolt up, looking down at where Kurt was lying next to his bed with wide eyes and a turning stomach. He looked painfully lovely, drenched in moonlight like he was, his doe eyes glistening with vulnerability as they gazed up at him.

And Blaine was weak, so weak, because he knew it was a bad idea, he knew they’d both regret this in the morning, or at least he guessed they would; but he couldn’t deny his angel anything, and if he wanted to be closer, then Blaine would get as close as he wanted him to. If he ended up heartbroken, no doubt by his own stupidity… well, he’d take it, a million times over, just to see the happy smile that erupted on Kurt’s features when he scooted over and folded back the blanket, wordlessly inviting him into his bed and, although he wasn’t certain Kurt knew it, his heart.

And surprisingly, it was perfectly innocent. Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt and Kurt tangled their legs together, his face buried in Blaine’s chest as he trembled and shook with what Blaine assumed were silent sobs. He was aware that he should probably ask, and he vowed to do so once they woke up, but for now, he settled for rubbing soothing circles on the boy’s back and not noticing the knobs and bend of his spine, not thinking about the long graceful slope of his neck and the perfectly round curve of his ass connected to it.

He should’ve known it wouldn’t stay that way; wouldn’t stay innocent. There was too much heat between them, too much passion, too many hidden emotions, for them not to break when in such close proximity, in such intimate circumstances.

Kurt initiated it, wiping away the moisture that had gathered on his face before tilting his head up and connecting his lips with Blaine’s. And Blaine had established before that he was weak, that he’d give this boy anything and everything, give him the very weapons to kill him with, so he responded, kissing back with fervor, licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue and drawing whines from Kurt’s throat into his own. Hands pawed at clothes, twisting and tugging at the fabric until they realized they had to break the connection their mouths were making if they were going to get to the skin hidden underneath. They both sat up, kneeling opposite one another and staring at each other longingly, but the interruption gave Blaine the chance to reconsider, to question whether this was the right thing to do; Kurt had had quite a few drinks, as far as he knew, and he was obviously vulnerable at the moment. Blaine would be more than a shitty friend if he did anything now. His concerns made him cease in his movements, made his hands still on the hem of Kurt’s shirt, and made the boy look at him questioningly.

“Are you sure you’re in the, uh, right state to do this? Or, well, decide you wanna do this? I don’t – I don’t wanna take advantage of you,” he whispered. Kurt looked like he was trying to suppress a grin, or maybe a laugh, as he cleared his throat.

“I’m sure. I’m not drunk. I’ve been drinking Shirley Temples for the better part of the night. And…” He hesitated, obviously trying to decide whether what was on his mind was really something he wanted to voice. Steely determination mixed with arousal in his eyes, and, much like Blaine had earlier that day, he took a deep breath before diving ahead. “I… I want this. I want it with you. O-only you. I honestly… can’t imagine doing this with anyone else, ever trusting anyone else enough to… to open up like that.”

As Blaine continued to stare at him in awe, it became apparent that Kurt was starting to panic, as evidenced by his rambling, “I’ve completely freaked you out, haven’t I? Oh fuck, fuck, I’ll just, I’ll leave, I’ll stay with Santana or –“

He attempted to stand, but Blaine caught his wrist and leveled his hopeful gaze with his own, sapphire and silver meeting emerald and gold.

“I love you,” he blurted, and it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t the careful, tentative whisper he’d imagined, with dusk setting in behind them as they strolled along the Hudson River shore after a perfect day of picnicking in Central Park and then rediscovering, or in Kurt’s case simply discovering, the wonders of the city. But it was the perfect moment regardless.

Kurt’s face positively lit up, the dark shadows of doubt that had previously overtaken it chased away. His smile was trembling and his eyes glistening once more; however, Blaine could tell it wasn’t from misery this time around, that his angel wasn’t the morose mess he’d been just half an hour before. It was like his admission had healed Kurt somehow, cured him of whatever torture his soul had been enduring.

“I… me too. I love you too.”

“I love you,” Blaine reiterated, breathless with the freedom of getting to say those words, of getting to hear them in return. “I’m yours. Only yours. I love you so much.”

This go around, they both leaned in to close the distance at the same time, their lips joining in the middle. Their passion was riding high as Blaine was stripped of his shirt, followed shortly by Kurt’s; as Kurt’s back hit the mattress with a soft thud, and Blaine got on top of him, kissing him furiously, both of them moaning at the feeling of skin-on-skin, and yet, it still wasn’t enough.

Kurt’s sweatpants went first, Blaine’s hands catching the waistband and pulling them down as far as he could without disconnecting his mouth from Kurt’s jaw; the boy kicked them off the rest of the way in a desperate move to land in a heap at the foot of the bed, while Blaine was now biting and licking a path down Kurt’s neck and chest. His lips latched onto a dusty pink nipple, giving it an experimental suck while his fingers pinched and rolled the other between them, the fingers of his other hand gripping his hip and playing at the waistband of his borrowed boxers. Kurt gasped into the silent room, his back arching and his own fingers winding in Blaine’s hair to keep him where he was.

Blaine chuckled and switched, lapping at the other nipple briefly before moving back up to press his lips against Kurt’s once more.

“Please,” the teen gasped against his mouth, skimming his hands up and down his back. Blaine trailed his lips to Kurt’s ear, biting down on the lobe before he whispered hotly, “what, baby? What do you want?”

Kurt didn’t answer with words; instead, he brought his fingers around Blaine’s side to his stomach and dipped the tips of them into his sweatpants, lightly brushing against his cock and making a shudder run up Blaine’s spine.

“This. You. Want you inside of me.”

Blaine pulled back so he could look down at the boy beneath him with parted lips. He didn’t know if Kurt had ever done anything with another boy, but he knew that he was a virgin in at least that sense of the word. That he’d never had anyone inside him.

And now, he was about to be his first. Holy fuck.

He dove back in, settling more comfortably between Kurt’s legs as their lips connected. Kurt took control of the kiss, rolling his tongue around Blaine’s mouth, his hands trailing a line of fire over the width of his back down to where his waistband met his skin, and then further down, further, under the fabric to grab Blaine’s ass cheeks and pull their crotches closer together. With a grunt, Blaine complied with the unspoken request, thrusting his hips forward to rub their erections together and making Kurt whine and push his own up hard to get more of that addictive friction.

Sweat was starting to bead on Blaine’s forehead as they continued to grind and lose themselves in the pleasure, their lips never leaving each other’s unless a noise wouldn’t be contained or muffled by either of their mouths. At some point, Kurt started clawing at Blaine’s skin and forcefully turned his head to the side, panting and sweating himself. Blaine was undeterred and just transferred his ministrations to Kurt’s neck instead, which had the pale boy in whimpers and moans.

“Close, too close,” he finally managed to gasp as he tried to get Blaine to stop by gripping his hips. “Don’t wanna come yet, please…”

Blaine halted his movements immediately and sat back on his haunches, checking Kurt’s face for any sign that he had changed his mind. Kurt, however, simply reached out a hand to trail it up and down Blaine’s chest, letting it catch on his nipples and beaming blindingly bright.

“I think these should finally come off,” he whispered and tugged at Blaine’s pants. The senior was quick to acquiesce, moving to the edge of the bed and, after a brief moment of hesitation, pulled them off along with his boxers. He turned on the bedside lamp on his nightstand before he returned to kneel between Kurt’s legs, farther back than before, and let the inexperienced teen look his fill. The blue eyes were dark and glassy, pupils blown out and raking the length of Blaine’s nude form, from his face to his throat to his chest to his abs, down further to the hard length jutting out between his muscular thighs.

He sat up and began to follow the path his eyes had made with his hands, his touch cautious, like he was scared of screwing up. Blaine encouraged him with the small moan involuntarily spilling from his lips, until finally, his long, pale fingers wrapped around Blaine’s long cock.

“Your cock is huge… I think,” he breathed with a tiny chuckle, obviously amazed by the sensation of stroking someone other than himself. While his touch was somewhat inexperienced and uncertain, like he wasn’t used to the angle, it was _his_ , and it was enough to make Blaine throw his head back and groan, especially when he sped up once he figured out a rhythm.

“I’m pretty well-endowed, despite my general shortcomings,” Blaine confirmed with a short-winded laugh.

With his eyes closed, he didn’t notice that Kurt came even closer before the teen was already licking hesitantly at the head, collecting the beads of precum oozing from it. The older man looked, wide-eyed, down at the angel bent over and staring up at him with those doe eyes as he lapped at his cock, and bit his lip into a smile to prevent himself from becoming too loud already. That battle turned out to be futile, though, when Kurt’s sinful pink lips wrapped around him to gently suck at the tip, making him shout a curse and grip his brown locks for something to hold onto. The heat in his belly was coiling, his abdominal muscles tightening already as the younger man began to bob his head experimentally under Blaine’s ever-watchful eye, until Blaine was sure he was about to come. He used his grasp on Kurt’s hair to gently pull him off, the obscene pop seemingly echoing around him and nearly bringing him to the edge once again.

On some intuitive level, Kurt seemed to understand why Blaine had stopped him, and there was that fucking smirk again, making Blaine growl and attack his lips like he had earlier in the hallway. The faint traces of himself he could taste there made his lower muscles clench and another groan escape his lips.

“I assume I, mhm, did well?” Kurt asked in a shaky voice, smug grin still in place. Blaine wanted to wipe it off his face, so he moved to nibble at Kurt’s pulse point, sucking hard on the skin of his elegant neck, sure to leave a bruise, while Kurt moaned his approval.

He didn’t think when he pushed the teen’s boxers down his hips and thighs, didn’t think when he pushed him back and pulled them off entirely; he just let himself feel, and be in awe of the beautiful creature lying on his bed, his pink cock resting against his naval, now dressed in nothing but the light from the bedside lamp and the moon. He wanted to taste every inch of him, mark every nook and cranny with his mouth, but his cock was throbbing and reminding him that he still had time for that later and that it needed attention now.

As if he could read his thoughts, Kurt let his thighs fall open, exposing himself on an entirely new level. Blaine’s breath caught in his throat, and he told his dick to be patient as he swooped down on Kurt. Their lips smacked and their breathing was heavy and loud in the silence of the room, but it was music, beautiful music underlining the beautiful thing happening between them.

“I want you so much,” Blaine breathed as moved down the teen’s body, not exactly going through with his heart’s desire to devour all of his skin, but getting a good enough sample as he made his way between his legs.

“Then take me. I’m yours for the taking, just yours, I – oh, fuck,” Kurt replied, interrupted by a whimper he couldn’t control when another hickey was sucked into his inner thigh.

“Don’t – just, I want your fingers. I’ll come too soon if you do anything else,” he told Blaine, who adhered to the warning, rising to rummage in his nightstand and grab a brand-new bottle of lube and a condom. He opened the bottle and poured some on his fingers, rubbing them together to warm up the liquid.

“Have you ever done this to yourself?” Blaine asked as he circled the pink pucker he’d just gotten a glimpse of, lying on his side next to Kurt so he could watch his face.

Kurt nodded shakily, sighing a “yeeess…” when his response coincided with the tip of a finger breaching his entrance. From there on out, it was mostly quiet; only the slick sound of the lube and Kurt’s desire and Blaine’s murmured reassurances and praise as he got the boy ready for him could be heard.

“Take me,” Kurt moaned as he writhed on the bed, three fingers deep inside of him, stroking his spot and scissoring so as to stretch him properly. Blaine was sweating from it, from the sensation of Kurt’s ass gripping the digits so tightly and the knowledge that soon, his cock would take their place and be tortured with pleasure like that. He grabbed the condom he’d deposited by their heads and made to rip it open with his teeth, but was stopped by Kurt taking a hold of his wrist.

“Have you, uh, ever done it without a condom?” His voice was strained, like he had to focus hard on forming the words, and it was with a jolt that Blaine realized that was because of him. He knew he was good in bed, fantastic even, but there was something about this being Kurt that made him feel nervous, almost like a virgin.

Probably the fact that he was so in love with him, only the attempt to grasp the extent of it made him dizzy.

“No… I’m clean. I got tested a few weeks back.”

“Well… so am I, so…” Kurt bit his lip nervously, and let his fingers wander up Blaine’s hand to catch the small foil wrapper. He pulled it out of his grasp and tossed it somewhere behind them.

“I don’t want there to be anything between us,” he explained. Blaine’s chest seemed to expand until it felt like it was about to explode with emotion at the display of trust, maybe even bigger than the act itself.

“I love you,” he whispered once more, not giving Kurt the chance to reply before he took his lips in a hungry kiss, a physical manifestation expressing the magnitude of what he was feeling. Kurt seemed to understand, though, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling Blaine on top of him as he reciprocated, then proceeded to uncap the bottle of lube once more to coat Blaine’s cock with it. His long, lean, but strong legs wrapped around the older man’s waist in a silent invitation, what with his mouth otherwise occupied.

Blaine got the hint, though. He aligned himself with Kurt’s hole and slowly, carefully, started to push forward, until the ring of muscle gave enough for the head to pop in. Kurt gasped at the intrusion, eyes flying open as they locked with Blaine’s, the wonderment at the feeling clear as day in them. He made fists in the dark curls, which clenched and relaxed and tugged in turns as Blaine thrust in deeper, deeper, until his balls hit Kurt’s ass with a soft smack.

Breathing heavily, Blaine buried his face in Kurt’s shoulder and peppered it with tiny pecks as he gave both of them time and opportunity to adjust while listening to the boy’s equally harsh panting. Kurt was unbelievably tight around him, and while he usually prided himself on his stamina, it was a struggle not to come on the spot. It was only when the teen began to squirm impatiently beneath him that he pulled back a fraction and plunged back in, both of them moaning brokenly.

Kurt’s hands, one of them still a bit sticky with drying lube, came up to rest on his shoulder blades. Heavy-lidded eyes stared up at Blaine as he built a slow, reverent rhythm, savoring the vice-like grip with which Kurt’s walls were milking his cock and relishing in the small, needy noises that were torn from the boy’s throat, responding to them with his own. Their lips joined, time and time again, with decreasing skill and increasing passion, tongues dancing and meeting outside their mouths as gradually, Blaine’s pace picked up. They had already been sweating a bit before, but now they were positively sweltering, drops of salty water falling from Blaine’s temples onto Kurt and running down Kurt’s face to be absorbed by the pillow, mixing as their bodies glided against one another.

“Blaine,” Kurt whined and dug his fingernails into the older man’s back. “Blaine, I – I need – deeper, fuck me deeper, I wanna feel you…”

“Fuck, Kurt,” Blaine swore and grabbed the boy’s thighs. He hooked his knees over his arms and planted his hands next to his head, opening him up as far as he could, then leaned down to rest their foreheads together. He thrust in hard, and Kurt keened, his eyes screwing shut and his nails scratching down Blaine’s back.

“Oh God, there, yes! Please fuck me, just like that, please…”

“Bossy,” Blaine joked breathlessly, but complied, shoving himself in as deep and hard as he could, and adding yet more velocity. The bed was creaking with the force of it all now, but he barely registered it; everything but Kurt, thrashing and begging and coming undone underneath his body, beneath his hips, was merely an easily ignored nuisance on the precipice of his mind. He didn’t care what their neighbors might think when he angled his hips just so and began ramming himself against Kurt’s prostate repeatedly, ripping yell after euphoric yell from Kurt’s mouth until the boy was hoarse with it, unable to produce more than throaty moans and husky cries. Blaine was aware of Kurt’s fingernails still scraping up and down his back and leaving marks of his passion, his thighs trembling from the onslaught of pleasure he was drowning in, was aware of his body shaking and his half-closed eyes staring and his wrecked voice asking for more. He was aware that he himself was fisting the sheets in his hands to ground him and keep himself from coming as Kurt’s ass started to contract around him rhythmically, that he was groaning just as desperately as Kurt was, just as close to release.

“Can you come from just my cock fucking you, baby? Do I get deep enough for you?” he asked, voice gravelly and choked. The sound seemed to have done it; Kurt, instead of replying, wailed what sounded like Blaine’s name, long and high and louder than before, white ropes erupting from his untouched length and coating both his and Blaine’s chest. His hole clamped down on him, became impossibly tighter, like it was trying to suck Blaine inside and keep him there, and in combination with the sight of Kurt, head thrown back into the pillow, eyes shut tight, clutching at every part of Blaine he could reach until his arms gave out as he continued to moan into the space around them, Blaine was done for. It only took a few more erratic slams of his hips before he buried himself as deep inside Kurt’s body as he possibly could, unraveling and groaning out a string of curse words interspersed with Kurt’s name as he painted his walls white.

Kurt’s heart was beating rapidly against Blaine’s chest, matching the rhythm of Blaine’s, and their lips found each other almost unconsciously. Their kisses were lazy, unhurried now that they’d quenched that thirst for each other – at least temporarily. Kurt’s body was loose and pliant, his lips swollen and bruised and slick with spit when Blaine pulled back to look down at him. They curved into a blissful, sated smile as he stared back up, his eyes lidded with exhaustion.

“My legs are cramping,” the teen announced, his voice still hoarse, and Blaine laughed out loud as he unhooked them from his arms and let them fall to the bed. Now that his breathing had leveled out somewhat and the fog was lifting a bit, he noticed his dick was starting to ache with hypersensitivity, and reluctantly, he pulled out. Both of them winced with the change of sensation, but the discomfort didn’t last long as Blaine wiped a hand down over Kurt’s sweaty brow and gently cupped his face.

“How are you feeling?” he whispered, briefly pecking a flushed cheek.

“Amazing. And sticky and gross. Blaine, that was…” he trailed off, searching for a word, but Blaine understood nonetheless. There really wasn’t a word that did what it had felt like justice.

“I know. It was for me, too.”

“I can still feel you inside me. I can feel… uh… I can feel your cum,” Kurt said with a blush, making something hot twist in Blaine’s belly, but it was too soon for him to get hard again.

“Yeah? Do you want me to get something to clean up with?”

“No,” the teen stated emphatically and wrapped his arms around Blaine’s torso. “I like it. If I could, I’d keep you there forever.”

“You could, you know,” Blaine dared to whisper. “I’d be a happy captive.”

They were quiet, simply drinking in the sight of the other before Blaine grabbed a handful of tissues from the nightstand to clean up the worst of the mess. They fell asleep with Blaine’s body curled around Kurt’s from behind, one arm slung over his waist and the other pillowing his angel’s head, wrapped up tightly in the warmth of blankets and their love.


	5. I'm Falling Faster And It Frames No Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably annoying that I do this before every chapter, but I just feel so grateful for all the positive feedback! Thank you so, so much for taking the time to read this!  
> Special shout-out to AncientGleek, who pointed out to me that I didn't warn for mentions of self-harm in Chapter 3. If you read it and it made you uncomfortable, I am so, so, so fucking sorry. I don't even know how to make it up to you, other than maybe offering to write a drabble of your choice if you come over to my tumblr and give me a prompt? (Link is on my profile, same user name.)  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Next one should be up Wednesday in a week, and there'll be some angst coming your way (nothing major!).  
> Warnings: brief mentions of past assault, but nothing graphic. Also, some more very graphic bottom!Kurt goodness as well as some dirty talk.

Blaine had never been a morning after person. Usually, when he slept with someone, he could tie off a condom, pull his clothes back on, and quietly steal away into his own room to sleep in his own bed. Only when he was stupidly drunk did he ever take someone back there, but he didn’t like kicking them out in the morning when he was feeling like shit as it was, so he tried to avoid that.

This time, he already was in his own bed. He didn’t have a pounding headache punishing him for the mistakes he’d made the night before. And he didn’t mind that the guy he’d slept with was still in his bed. Not at all. In fact, he thought as he drank in the sight of his sleeping form lovingly, he’d like it if he never left. He’d even gone as far as taking him back into his arms after he’d shifted away from him during the night in an attempt to keep him there.

Kurt’s pink lips were slightly parted in sleep, puffs of breath escaping them at regular intervals, sometimes accompanied by a barely-audible snuffle. Blaine had tried counting the freckles adorning his face, but had given up and instead settled for simply admiring the smatter across his cute button nose. There were also a few less noticeable ones gracing the rosy skin covering his high cheekbones. His thick chestnut hair was a mess, sticking up and away from his face, so unlike his usually perfectly styled coif.

He was the most beautiful, perfect thing Blaine had ever laid eyes on.

And he was his to hold, and touch, and kiss.

Even if it was only until Kurt realized what a mess he actually was. He wasn’t sure if he could do the whole boyfriend thing and be what Kurt deserved, but he was damn adamant about doing his best and, for now at least, he was still his.

Or was he? Blaine suddenly realized they’d just jumped into bed the night before. Sure, they’d confessed their feelings for each other, but he’d seen it happen to enough of his friends to know that mutual feelings didn’t always sum up to a relationship. He was beginning to panic, because he knew for certain that he didn’t want this to be a one-time thing. If Kurt didn’t want to continue what they had… well, he hadn’t yet decided whether he’d respect that or whether he would fight tooth and nail for a chance to prove to him that he was worth more than that.

The boy in his arms shifted slightly and smacked his lips, his eyelids fluttering lazily as he slowly came to. Until they suddenly widened, still hazy from sleep but obviously aware enough of his surroundings to know he wasn’t in his own room. Blaine watched with bated breath as he gasped and looked around – until his eyes fell on Blaine. Realization dawned on his face, and to Blaine’s delight, he immediately felt him relax back into his arms and snuggle closer in his embrace.

“Morning,” he murmured, hiding his face in the older man’s chest. Blaine could feel his smile against the spot where his heart was beating rapidly.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he whispered, letting his fingers comb through the disarrayed hair. Kurt giggled, honest-to-God giggled, and the sound was the most endearing thing Blaine had ever heard. Combined with the sight of him shyly looking up at him through his lashes, it was really no wonder that his stomach was in knots.

“You really think so, don’t you? You really do think I’m beautiful,” Kurt replied softly, his voice sounding awed at the idea and making Blaine’s lips curve up into a smile of his own.

“Yeah… duh? Have you ever seen yourself? And heard yourself,” he added, almost as an afterthought. His hand wandered down the graceful slope of Kurt’s neck to the middle of his back, touching the soft, still sleep-warm skin. “And generally been around yourself. There’s literally nothing about you that isn’t beautiful.”

Kurt beamed as his eyes roamed over his face.

“I love you,” he said, voice a little louder than before, almost defiant in his admission. “You’re beautiful, too.”

“Well, I love you too, and you’re more beautiful.”

“Nope.”

“Yeah, you are. And I’ll add lovely to that, and I’m also playing the card of seniority. Now accept my wisdom.”

“Why yes, Sir,” Kurt sassed back, a wicked grin on his face, like he knew exactly that that little word had just sent a shot of arousal straight to Blaine’s groin. The senior bit his lip to contain the groan threatening to spill from his lips when the teen began to mouth at his collarbone. His efforts proved to be fruitless, though, when Kurt’s lips found his ear and he licked at the shell.

“Can we do it again?” he breathed hotly before catching the lobe between his teeth, and yes, that was Blaine moaning. The pale boy pushed him on his back and straddled his hips, Blaine’s cock already half-hard against that perky ass and Kurt poking some impressive morning wood into his stomach as he leaned forward to claim his lips.

Blaine’s hands found the narrow hips leisurely rocking Kurt’s body back and forth on top of him and turned his head to draw in a much-needed breath of air. “Baby… are you sure?”

“Stop asking me that,” Kurt chuckled as he moved on to suck at Blaine’s neck. “I’m sure.” He moaned on another upwards roll of his hips, his cock smearing precum over Blaine’s abdomen and belly. “Wanna ride you.”

“Yeah?” Blaine whispered, another wave of heat surging to his dick at the mere idea, making it swell to full hardness. Kurt nodded, his breathing starting to become shallower. Their mouths met in a bruising kiss, soothed by Blaine’s tongue brushing over Kurt’s lips before delving between them to get to Kurt’s own tongue. Kurt moaned, allowing Blaine to take control for a few moments before pulling back and sitting back up.

The smolder he gifted Blaine with made his breath catch. Unconsciously, he emitted a growl, propelling him onto his back and practically launching himself on top of him, licking back into his mouth as his hands found his inner thighs and pushed them apart.

“Only if I get to do this, baby,” he murmured as he shifted so he was sitting back on his calves, taking in the glory that was Kurt Hummel naked, in his bed, in broad daylight – sprawled out on his back, staring up at him with those breathtaking eyes, the vibrant cerulean color dark with desire, miles of creamy white skin covering lightly toned muscles, unblemished aside from the bruises Blaine had sucked into it the night before; his long legs spread wide, feet flat on the bed and his pink hole, the color matching his pebbled nipples, on display, still looking slightly stretched and wet. It made Blaine’s mouth water, made him feel starved in a way that wouldn’t be satisfied by food.

“You mean stare at me?” Kurt grinned up at him, relaxing further back into the mattress. “Why am I lying here? I thought I said I wanted to ride you, and you seemed down with the idea.”

Blaine grasped Kurt’s ankle and started kissing up the length of his leg. “Don’t worry, baby,” he purred and bit into his calf gently, making Kurt gasp and squirm. “You’ll get to fuck yourself on my cock soon enough. Now…” he paused his words and resumed his ministrations, only pausing when he reached the crease in Kurt’s thigh. He breathed in the scent of him there before placing another gentle kiss on the even softer skin. Kurt squirmed and gasped at the sensation of Blaine’s hot breath fanning over the sensitive area, splayed his legs even farther in an attempt to get more of it. However, Blaine just smirked and moved back down to give the same treatment to his other leg, until the pale beauty was panting harshly above him.

“Please, Blaine. Oh God, please, please, just do something, anything…”

God, he sounded pretty when he begged. And he seemed so into it, too, his cock twitching and dribbling with every plea he moaned, so Blaine decided to try something. He slowly slithered back up Kurt’s body until he reached his face, taking a firm, yet delicate hold of it and forcing him to look straight into his eyes.

“Do. Not. Come. Under no circumstances. There are no excuses if you do. Do you understand me?”

Kurt tried to nod, but Blaine wouldn’t have it. “Use your words, darling.”

“Yes, Sir.” There it was; the senior felt something akin to a pang in his gut at the sound of the usually clear, high voice, dripping and deepening with arousal as the younger boy’s pupils dilated, making his eyes take on a stormy blue hue.

“Good boy,” he whispered, making Kurt whine in response and swallowing the sound with his lips. When he felt he had tasted enough of Kurt’s mouth, at least for now, and that he couldn’t wait for the taste of another part of him, he disconnected their lips with a smack to start the path down his body again. He was quick, knowing Kurt and his impatience and also knowing he’d tortured him - both of them - enough, not wasting much time with teasing kitten licks before he engulfed half of Kurt’s length in his mouth in one rapid movement. The boy’s legs twitched and he groaned, long and dirty, his hips making to jerk up but halted by Blaine’s hand splayed over his stomach, holding him still and rubbing soothing circles into the slightly hairy skin there. His other hand wrapped around the part of Kurt’s cock he couldn’t fit in his mouth, and started stroking up and down while his head bobbed along. His tongue pressed against the prominent vein his lower lip slid over and swirled around the head before he sunk back down, moaning at the feel and taste of the teen’s precum oozing down his throat. Kurt cried out, his fingers lacing in Blaine’s hair and yanking as he tried, unsuccessfully, to thrust up into Blaine’s mouth yet again. The older man remained incessant, continuing to bob, lick and suck until Kurt was shouting a string of curse words, a light sheen of sweat covering his entire body.

“Blaine, fuck, fuck, Blaine, I’m close, oh, ohhh –“

Blaine pulled off without a warning, looking down at Kurt with nearly black eyes before pouncing on him. "I told you, you're not allowed to come," he whispered hotly before he let the boy taste himself, relishing in the throaty moan he emitted, and reached down, skimming a hand over his balls and then lower.

“Does this feel okay? You need to let me know if you’re too sore,” he mumbled as his fingertips rubbed over the pucker, which seemed to be twitching slightly in anticipation.

“I will,” Kurt said, tone soft and voice a little gruff. “But I think it’s okay. It doesn’t hurt all that much, it’s more uncomfortable than anything.”

“Not for long.” Blaine grinned and grabbed the lube, squirting a liberal amount into his hand and rubbing it between his fingers before reaching down once more. “I’ll have you screaming with pleasure soon.”

He stretched Kurt with caution although he was still a little loose from last night, trying his best not to upset the already used and slightly swollen ring of muscle too much. Kurt was coming undone beautifully beneath him, sweating with his lips parted as he gasped and moaned for “more, more Blaine, please, please, more”, his head turning from side to side and his eyes screwed shut as his hips jerked, fucking himself on Blaine’s fingers. It was all Blaine could do to not just… take, just ram himself into the tight heat enveloping his fingers and own the boy, make him scream his name and let the world know he was his.

The possessiveness of the thought surprised Blaine, but his cock gave a painful throb between his legs as if to say that it approved, and remind him that it was still there, waiting to lay claim to Kurt. The teen himself was looking up at Blaine dazedly, hands fisting in the sheets and seemingly close to tears while Blaine just stroked along his walls leisurely, coming close to his bundle of nerves but purposely avoiding it.

“Blaine – Blaine, I – please, please, I need –“

Kurt was a mess, a sob of need wracking his body as he stared at Blaine pleadingly. In response, the older man stroked a soothing hand over his brow and up into his hair, cooing softly as he did.

“Shh, baby, I know…” He pulled his fingers out slowly, carefully, but Kurt still winced and whimpered at the sudden empty feeling. His gaze was nothing short of hungry as he looked down at the pale beauty in his bed, and Kurt returned it just as intensely as he took a moment before sitting up and pushing Blaine onto his back.

“God, I wanna lick you all over,” the boy whispered, his usually clear voice a low growl now as he reversed their positions and eyed Blaine up.

“That’s what round three is for. C’mon, darling… ride me,” Blaine replied, his voice authoritative and also much lower than usual. His hands rubbed over Kurt’s thighs as the boy moaned and scrambled to straddle his hips, feeling the coarse hair stand on end beneath his palms as goosebumps broke out over his skin at the touch. Kurt’s chest was heaving already, his hands shaking in anticipation as he reached behind him with a lubed hand and pumped Blaine until he was slick, both with the liquid and his precum already dribbling from the head.

Keeping his grip on the base, Kurt shifted until the tip of Blaine’s cock was aligned with his waiting hole. Carefully, he lowered himself on the length, both of them groaning and throwing their heads back when their bodies finally joined to become one. While Kurt’s inexperience shone through his movements as he slowly impaled himself further on Blaine’s dick, his eagerness still made it hot as hell, better than anything Blaine had ever known, and Blaine’s fingers dug into the flesh of his thighs as the tight, wet heat enveloped more and more of him.

Finally, just as Blaine’s eyes were about to roll back into his head with the torturous pleasure Kurt was both punishing and rewarding him with, he bottomed out, Kurt’s ass snug against Blaine’s thighs, his knees encasing his hips. The boy was breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he barely gave himself a moment to adjust before rising up and slamming down again, moaning out loud.

“That’s it, baby…” Blaine gritted out, moving his grip to Kurt’s hips instead and helping him lift up before pulling him down hard again. “Fuck yourself on my cock, c’mon. Let me see those hips work.”

Kurt whined and put his own hands on Blaine’s, pulling them up to his waist as he laced their fingers together and began to undulate on top of him, taking him in deep before lifting back up again only to repeat the cycle. Blaine squeezed his fingers and just let himself lay back and enjoy the sensation of increasing and decreasing pressure around him as he stared up at the lithe body of the boy he loved writhing on top of him.

“Blaine…” Kurt sighed, the sound turning into a drawn-out moan when Blaine decided to change the angle by drawing up his knees and thrusting up sharply, immediately feeling the walls clench around him, indicating he’d found Kurt’s spot. He did it again, and again, Kurt meeting him almost vigilantly, increasing the pace until he was bouncing on top of him.

“Yes, yes, fuck, yes!” the pale teen cried out as his prostate was hit repeatedly and stilled, grinding his hips so Blaine’s dick would rub against it before continuing in an unsteady rhythm, interrupted every time he shouted his euphoria.

“Shit, baby, you’re so hot… so hot for my dick… I bet no one would guess how hungry you are for it, how desperate…” Blaine breathed, noticing the goosebumps from earlier return to adorn Kurt’s flesh as the boy heard the dirty words, letting his head fall back and arching his body as if he was letting them caress his skin.

“Yes, God, keep talking…”

Blaine took a firm hold of Kurt’s hips again as he sat up, his chest pressing against the boy’s as he jerked up and down, clamping down on him harder with each thrust up inside him. He slid one arm up to sling across his back, feeling it slip against the sweaty skin while Kurt’s arms wrapped around his neck.

“Such a good boy, working me like that, making me feel so good… You can’t wait for me to fill you up with my cum, can you?” he spoke softly in his ear before attaching his lips to his neck, panting against the skin as he continued. “You’d never admit it but I know you wanna feel your ass dripping with it, wanna feel it trickle down your thighs and know it’s me who’s been there… C’mon, baby, tell me how much you want it. Be a good boy and tell me…”

“Oh God, Blaine,” Kurt choked out, losing his rhythm once again as the muscle in his thighs visibly trembled, whether from exertion or pleasure or a combination, Blaine didn’t know. “I love it, I love feeling you inside me… you get so deep… make me feel so full, I – shit! Fuck!” he wailed and dug his fingernails into Blaine’s shoulders, using the leverage to fuck himself down harder and faster still, his ass meeting Blaine’s thighs with the wet sound of skin slapping together. “Sometimes, at night, it’s – ahh – it’s all I can, shit, all I can think about, you just fucking using me, calling me your filthy little boy – I, God, I’m coming, don’t stop, don’t stop, please…”

Blaine growled and attacked Kurt’s lips at the same time the hand on his hip took a hold of his cock, stroking furiously and barely holding on by a thread as sweat poured down both of their bodies, his hips erratically slamming up into Kurt as he clamored to keep his release at bay until Kurt had his.

“Come for me, give it all to me; Make a mess; Show me that you really are my filthy little boy…” he whispered hotly against Kurt’s lips, his voice as strained as his muscles were from the effort of holding off. As if he had just waited for Blaine’s permission, a loud sob echoed around them and he quickly claimed Kurt’s mouth again, licking inside to devour the yell of ecstasy when the teen tensed all over and spilled over Blaine’s hand and on his chest.

The feeling of Kurt’s orgasm around him, on top of him, on his skin and in his arms as the boy continued to shudder and moan wantonly, made Blaine growl. He got a good grip of Kurt’s ass as he sat up on his knees and lifted the boy up with him before propelling him onto his back, taking care not to lose their connection as he grabbed his ankles and spread them wide. Wild abandon overtook him as he plunged into Kurt, over and over and over again, until tipped him over the edge as well, shot his own load up into his body, groaning and keening, “fuck, fuck, Kurt, yes, yes, yes, Kuuurrrt!” He bent down to dip his tongue into Kurt’s mouth again, feeling the teen kiss back hungrily as they both rode out the waves. Gradually, the urgency ebbed away, but tiny noises of pleasure still escaped their lazily locking lips before ultimately, Blaine let himself fall back on the bed, followed by Kurt rolling back half on top of him, both of them gasping for air.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asked once he’d regained his breath, his hand tracing patterns up and down Kurt’s sweat-sticky back. He felt him nod, then look up at him with those mesmerizing, wide eyes.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, a few hours ago you were a virgin, and what we did now… that was…”

Kurt giggled, interrupting Blaine. “I know… I guess that’s always been a fantasy of mine? Well, not always,” he amended, looking and sounding thoughtful. “Just since I met you and fell for you, I suppose. I know I act like a prissy bitch sometimes –“

“Just sometimes.”

Kurt laughed and swatted Blaine on the arm. “Anyway, jerk,” he admonished him with a glare, making Blaine simply grin harder, “I was going to say that the fact that I wanted someone to love me and love in return doesn’t mean I’m not a typical gay teenage boy, and that I haven’t noticed how… well… built you are.” He blushed, and Blaine stroked over the red spot high on one of his cheeks tenderly.

“Hey, none of that. It’s okay. Normal. I was just wondering how okay you were with it, since this was only your second time having sex and all.”

“I got that realistic fairytale first time I was talking about the night we became friends,” the brunette answered with a smile. “And, as far as I’m concerned, the perfect follow-up. Now shut up and snuggle me before I realize how revolting we smell.”

Blaine chuckled and complied, kissing the top of Kurt’s head before he let his eyes fall shut and felt a kiss being pressed to his chest in response, the all-consuming feeling inside of it seemingly expanding at the gesture and making him sigh happily.

Until out of the blue, Kurt gasped and tensed in his arms. "What's that?" he asked, voice trembling as his fingers traced a scar on Blaine's side.

Blaine tensed up immediately as well, not even needing to check what Kurt was talking about; from his jaw to his toes, his entire body went rigid. Kurt propped himself up on one elbow to look down at him, eyes wide as saucers and lips pressed together in a thin line.

“That… is a souvenir of the reason why I got into college a year late,” Blaine sighed, knowing he couldn’t – and shouldn’t – keep this a secret anymore. He’d told Kurt about the assault briefly, but never splurged on the details, never let on how bad it had really been.

But Kurt was smart; it only took a few seconds for him to catch on.

“Is that… from middle school? When you were jumped after that Sadie Hawkins dance?” he whispered meekly, his speech made barely audible by what Blaine assumed was fear of overstepping.

“It’s fine, baby…” he murmured and pulled Kurt down against his chest once more, partly to comfort him, partly because he couldn’t stand to see the impending, overbearing sadness in his eyes. “I guess I just gave you a rough overview of what happened. I didn’t want to bring it up and upset you unnecessarily… Because I know you and I knew you’d be upset if I did. And most of the time, I don’t even think about it anymore, so it just seemed redundant to tell you about it… if that makes sense. I certainly never thought we’d end up in a position where I couldn’t get around you noticing… the scar.”

Kurt was quiet, trailing his fingertips against the darker, reddish tissue, the color of which would never fade away to match the skin surrounding it completely.

“So are you gonna tell me now?” he finally spoke up to ask after some time had passed and Blaine still hadn’t elaborated. His gaze wandered up to meet Blaine looking down at him, and it sent electric sparks up his spine – a feeling so powerful, Blaine had to swallow to moisten his mouth before he could speak.

“Well… there’s not much to tell. I already told you I went to Sadie Hawkins with a gay friend of mine and we got beaten up by three guys about twice our size. I just… failed to mention that I was placed in an artificial coma afterwards because my injuries were so bad…” he ignored the sharp intake of breath coming from the boy in his arms and made a point of boring holes into the ceiling instead of returning Kurt’s stare, desperately wanting to get this over with, “and I ended up missing so much, they recommended I repeat the year. I changed to a private school, funded by my dad because my mom made it pretty clear that she thought I got what I deserved. The scar is from where one of my ribs broke through the skin.”

Kurt turned his head up, transferring his hand’s ministrations on Blaine’s side to his jaw and neck. “Is that why you started boxing?”

Blaine simply nodded in response.

“I know you don’t want to delve into it but… please at least tell me that they got what they deserved.”

Blaine chuckled humorlessly. “Of course not. My parents put me in therapy, which helped, I guess, but they couldn’t be fucked to press charges, too. The guys got suspended for a few weeks, but nothing more. They, uh, even tried to come after me once, after my transfer,” he admitted, albeit reluctantly, but he figured Kurt deserved the whole story. “I was lucky I was with a few of my friends in the Warblers. I managed to clock one of them and kneed the other in the balls, while Jeff and Nick took care of the other guy. They were humiliated and when I saw them again after that, they made sure to give me a wide berth. And then, when I went to a gay bar with another Warbler friend once, I spotted the biggest, burliest one of them making out with another guy on the dancefloor. The look on his face when he saw me was priceless…” Blaine made a point of sighing happily, trying to dissolve the tension.

When he finally dared to peek at his boyfriend, the corners of Kurt’s mouth were turned up, but there was nothing humorous about the expression, so he felt safe in assuming he had failed.

“Seems we’ve both had our share of experience with closeted homophobes. I understand your urge to beat up Karofsky now. I wish I could fucking kill those jerks.”

Blaine hummed, feeling a bit turned on by Kurt’s anger even with the solemn mood. “That jackass better hope he never crosses me.”

“It actually had good sides… My friends stopped ignoring me after everyone found out he threatened to kill me. They actually started acting like friends. Although in retrospect, I’m not sure I like how much they love to meddle.”

“What do you mean?” Blaine asked, noticing the way Kurt was biting his lip as he idly stroked his sweaty hair.

“Well… you remember how you kept asking me who told me to stay away from you and all that?”

Blaine remained silent, waiting for Kurt to expand.

“Well… one of my friends from high school was a girl a grade above me, Rachel Berry. You may have heard of her, she –“

“ – recently got the lead in Funny Girl. But she’s a girl. I may have made some questionable choices over the last few years, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never slept with a woman.”

Kurt shook his head. “Well, apparently, you slept not only with one or two, but three of those sycophants she calls friends at NYADA. And she got to hear stories about you and what a heartbreaker you are from every single one of them, so when she had one of those moments when she decides she’s my best friend all of a sudden, she gave me a warning when she found out we’d probably be housed in the same building.”

Blaine just laughed incredulously, at a loss for words because… what could he possibly say? He’d had flings with a few guys from NYADA but even if he had been interested in a relationship back then, the guys were way too dramatic for his taste. He himself liked to be the drama queen in any relationship, friendly or more than friendly.

He finally settled on saying, “I’m glad I’m not that guy anymore,” because it was the one thought that stood out in the jumbled mess this entire conversation had made of them.

“I’m glad I’m the lucky one who got you to change your ways. It’s… it’s a pretty good feeling. I thought I was screwed when I realized I was in love with you,” Kurt murmured, and Blaine could feel the skin of his cheek heat up against his chest.

“I’m the lucky one, because you actually want me.”

“Let’s not fight, okay?” Kurt replied with a little chuckle, making Blaine laugh in turn, although something else was bothering him.

“Is that why you cried last night?”

He felt Kurt nod and sighed. “Well, it’s good that’s not going to be an issue anymore, at least… Because I love you. I love you so much, and I’m so happy I could cry right now, but I get blotchy and stuffy and I don’t wanna send you running for the hills already,” he teased, and Kurt laughed again, the sound a little wet, but he didn’t look up for Blaine to check and he didn’t say anything else, so he felt safe in letting it go. His brain was still fried from that mind-blowing orgasm he’d just experienced, so he figured it would be a good idea to pause the conversation until he felt capable of thinking of intelligent things to say. Judging by the pattern Kurt’s breath was painting against his skin, he was sure the boy himself was asleep already anyway, or at least close. He was just letting that soothing sensation lull him to sleep as well when a loud, rapid succession of knocks sounded on his door.

“Open up right now, Blaine! I know Kurt is in there with you, and I’m not going away until you let me talk to him!”

Blaine groaned at the sound of Elliott’s voice, and gently coaxed Kurt onto his side so he could slip out of bed and pull on a pair of boxers. Almost as an afterthought, he wiped the cum off his chest and made sure Kurt was covered up properly before opening the door a fraction to see Elliott with his fist raised, about to knock again.

“Oh, hey! I was just – oh, holy mother of fuck,” he said, eyes wide as he took in Blaine’s state of undress and then tried to peek behind him. “You guys did it, didn’t you? I heard noises coming from this corner when I came down the hall, but I didn’t think –“

“What do you want, Elliott?” Blaine gritted out between clenched teeth. “He’s asleep, and exhausted, so I’m afraid he can’t talk to you right now.”

“Exhausted, huh? You dog,” Elliott replied with a smirk, but his expression quickly sobered up. “Look, Blaine… I know you’re not as bad as everyone makes you out to be, but Kurt? He’s… it’s not my place to tell, but I can at least say that it would be very easy for you to break him. Please don’t, like, use and discard him or something like that. He… trusts you, obviously, and I’m not sure if he could handle it if you…”

The junior trailed off, leaving Blaine to pinch the bridge of his nose and take a few deep breaths so as not to start yelling.

“I appreciate the concern, I really do. I don’t think he’s told you anything I don’t know yet, but I’m glad you’re looking out for him. And... I’m not going to do that to him. Don’t worry, okay?”

Elliott looked unconvinced and reluctant to leave so quickly, so Blaine decided to just lay all his cards on the table.

“I’m in love with him. Truly, madly, deeply. I’d never do anything to hurt him, not intentionally. Now, please leave so I can snuggle with the man of my dreams and leave the interrogation to his grizzly bear of a father. Deal?”

The junior snorted a laugh and nodded. “Deal.”

Blaine shut the door quietly, and turned to crawl back into bed, when a sleepy voice piped up.

“My dad isn’t a grizzly bear. Maybe a teddy bear at best.”

Blaine jumped a bit, but grinned once he caught up a second later and he hurled himself on top of the boy, who made an “umph!” noise, then laughed.

“You’re squishing me!”

“Don’t care,” Blaine murmured in response and gently brought his lips to Kurt’s. They spent a bit of time kissing leisurely, before a grumble sounded around them and Blaine pulled back with a laugh, looking down at a blushing Kurt averting his gaze.

“I’ve worked up an appetite, okay? Sex really does burn a lot of energy, it’s not just a myth.”

“C’mon then,” the senior chuckled and sat up, holding out a hand for Kurt, who hissed upon copying his position. “I’ll take you to a café that’s actually good for breakfast. Or would you like me to just get something and bring it back here, if you’re, uh, too sore?”

Kurt shook his head and grinned, stating that he “would very much like to parade his boyfriend around campus and the city”, and making Blaine’s heart swell in the process. Boyfriends. They hadn’t talked it out, but he knew it was what he wanted; had known for quite some time. His mantra, the one he kept repeating to his friends, had always been that if both parties of any sexual encounter were willing, there was no reason not to go for it, no reason to complicate it; it still applied in this case, only it wasn’t only sex it applied to anymore.

He had a boyfriend, who currently let himself be led into the bathroom where they carefully, reverently, washed the residue of their lovemaking off one another before getting dressed and stepping out, their hands interlocked and swinging between them to the rhythm of the whispers of everyone who spotted them.


	6. The Saddest Part Is I Am Not With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting this a day late. It’s 2:15am here and I’m too tired for a proper note other than thanking you all for the continued support and warning for something you might not really recognize as a countermeasure to cutting, but that is, and is only mentioned in about 3 words. Without further ado…

Blaine knew, logically, that an age difference of 4 years and 3 months was nothing. That while Kurt was 18, he was also much, much more mature than him and probably the wisest person Blaine had ever come across.

Like the time they had gotten a good day-time drunk on and then decided to go to the mall with all of Blaine’s and, subsequently, Kurt’s friends; if he was being honest, they probably all preferred Kurt to him, but he wasn’t mad – he actually preferred Kurt to himself as well. Especially when he remembered how the teen had fallen to his knees in front of him in the dressing room of Brooke’s Brothers, trademark smirk in place, and proceeded to lick and suck him until Blaine had to muffle his cries with a bowtie pressed into his mouth. Which he had to buy then, although it was a super ugly mustard yellow.

It was at some new, ‘edgy’ emo-circa-2008 clothing store that Mike whacked Blaine over the head with some frilly umbrella and challenged him to an ‘Asian duel’. Blaine, naturally, couldn’t turn him down; as he explained to Kurt later, “his Filipino pride was at stake!” They had both proceeded to gear up on ‘appropriate dueling wear’, including rainbow feather boas and top hats and sequined skull-print vests that were meant for girls half their size, but the fight everyone was awaiting with bated breath – though that probably came from laughing too hard – never really happened, as Mike managed to knock over a display when he swung his umbrella around aimlessly. The store manager had stormed their way, the smoke coming from his ears a pretty good indicator that he was pissed the fuck off, and they’d all proceeded to run out, Blaine and Mike not caring one bit that the theft detectors went off and they were basically stealing as they flitted through the mall to the sound of their, and other shoppers’, raucous laughter.

In the end, Kurt managed to convince them to stop and return the items to the huffing and puffing store manager by swearing to Blaine that he would find someone else before he submitted himself to the stress and exposure of conjugal visits. He even managed to get them out of trouble by explaining to the mall officer that the two of them were deeply disturbed and mentally ill, and currently awaiting reply from their therapist’s office about resuming their sessions after the guy they’d been seeing about their condition had been out for a couple of months due to illness.

Blaine made sure to thank Kurt with his very own dressing room blowjob, and rode him into the mattress extra hard after they got back to his room.

Or that time when he was leaning out of his dorm window, lighting up cigarette after cigarette in an attempt to numb the painful feeling in his chest that wouldn’t stay away despite what he told himself about not caring what his mother thought and said. They rarely talked, and when they did she only ever insulted him, so he told himself he was used to it and that it didn’t matter that this time, upon hearing he had a boyfriend now from Cooper, she had been particularly vicious. She even went as far as threatening to cut him off, and his trust fund and current financial support along with it, not realizing what an empty threat it really was because he had known for a while now that it was, in fact, his absent father who paid for his tuition and most of his living expenses. She always tried to make him feel guilty about the amount of money she spent on him, and that it was a waste because he’d contract AIDS and die young anyway… which never seemed to stop hurting him, even though he knew it was bullshit; no matter how old he was, no matter what he accomplished, no matter how happy he was with the rest of his life and how great everything was going for him, her words always managed to cut him where it bled the most.

That was how Kurt found him, trying to fill that empty place inside him up with smoke and probably only succeeding in supporting aggressive cell-growth which would take up the space instead. Blaine expected a lecture of some sorts, maybe something about how unhealthy a habit smoking was, like he didn’t already know, but Kurt surprised him by leaning out the window beside him before taking the stick from him. He put it to his lips and inhaled deeply and… something about the sight was… hot, unbelievably hot, especially when he stretched his long, graceful neck towards the sky and exhaled again in a long, measured breath, lips pouting as the gray vapor left from between them.

However, there was also something painful that twisted in his gut, because he knew – despite everyone apparently assuming he didn’t – he knew how bad it was and he didn’t want anything tainting his angel, or endangering him in any way, no matter how remote the danger was.

“I don’t think I like you doing that,” he murmured as Kurt took another drag and looked at him curiously, but with something else swimming in his eyes.

“Why not? You do it. I figure if I’m gonna kiss you and have to taste it anyway, I might as well join in on the fun.”

Blaine sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “There’s a difference. You’re… you’re perfect, and you shouldn’t knowingly jeopardize that. I’m…” he trailed off, unable, and perhaps a bit unwilling, to elaborate on what he was exactly. Kurt just inhaled deeply once more and let the smoke rush from his lungs before he flicked the butt out of the window.

“I don’t think you understand the concept of perfection, Blaine. You see, you think I’m pretty much flawless, don’t you?”

“Entirely flawless, yeah.”

Kurt smiled and kissed him on the cheek, but his expression turned serious again as he spoke. “But that doesn’t mean everyone thinks that I am. Just like not everyone may think you’re perfect, but you are entirely flawless to me, too. Beyond compare. And I like you putting yourself at an increased risk of early death as much as you like me doing it.”

Blaine was quiet, looking outside at the hustle and bustle of the city as he considered Kurt’s words.

“Okay. Just… I was stressed out.”

Kurt quirked an eyebrow at him, a small smile playing on his lips once more. “I thought we’d established a pretty good stress relief…”

He couldn’t help it, Blaine had to chuckle in spite of himself. “Not the kinda stress that would’ve helped with.”

“Your mom?”

He was pretty certain Kurt hadn’t intended to make a “your mom” joke and was actually psychic, as there was no other explanation as to how this boy always knew what was up with him.

Blaine proceeded to tell his boyfriend about the conversation that had just taken place, and did something he never did – he let himself be comforted. Lying down on the bed with his face buried in Kurt’s shirt, he let himself cry, and be held, let his angel murmur in his ear soothingly, let himself be lost in a kiss that tasted of salt and stale cigarettes and break apart and be put together again by someone else’s hands.

 

So all in all, their age difference didn’t mean anything in terms of power balance in their relationship. If they’d met when he was 18, Kurt would have been 14 and that was, of course, an absolute no-go, but at their age, nobody cared anymore. They were both adults, and Kurt even more so than him in regard to almost everything that counted.

However, that didn’t mean it never slapped him across the face with a metaphorical chair, especially in moments like these.

“They want me for the internship…” he started, not bothering to greet his boyfriend of 4 months as he let himself into his dorm room, his stomach already in knots.

Kurt, sweet, sweet Kurt, jumped up after being initially startled, and walked in two long strides to engulf him in a tight bear hug, squealing in his ear.

“I knew it! I knew you could do it! Universal won’t know what hit them!”

Blaine awkwardly patted him on the back, not knowing how to respond otherwise and feeling like he was about to hurl. Kurt noticed his tense posture and pulled back a fraction.

“You should be happy. We’re talking about Universal Music Group here. A.k.a. the biggest record label in the world. Lady Gaga is signed with them, and All Time Low, Fall Out Boy, Rise Against… and Katy Perry, and everyone who’s seen you drunk knows how much you love Katy Perry.”

A nervous chuckle, followed by an embarrassed groan, was what Blaine emitted before he disentangled himself from Kurt’s arms and went to sit on the bed, clasping his hands in front of him, his restless leg knocking against the bedframe almost rhythmically as he tried to think of the best way to relay the news.

“I… didn’t get the one that’s based in New York. They want me at their headquarters… in Santa Monica,” he finally just came out with it, deciding there was no point in sugarcoating the situation. He looked up to see Kurt’s face turn from confused, to dumbfounded, to incredulous and then, finally, settling on that unreadable mask Blaine had hoped he’d left behind even before they started going out.

“That’s… that’s great!” he said in a faux-cheerful voice, and everything within Blaine plummeted at the sound. Kurt was always upfront with him, had been from the beginning when he told him in no uncertain terms that there was no way in hell he’d come back to his room with him. That hadn’t changed now that they were a couple – well, he’d come back to Blaine’s room with him, but there was no hiding of emotions or pretending to like something you hated with them; they were always completely honest with each other.

“Is it?” he whispered, focusing back on his hands again.

“Of course, dummy!” Kurt exclaimed, walking off to switch on his tiny electric kettle; walking away from Blaine and finding an excuse to turn his back towards him so he wouldn’t see his face. “It’s a great opportunity, and if you decide against going into post-grad, this might secure you a job in your field right after graduation. How many college students can say they’re that lucky?”

Blaine remained silent as he watched Kurt busying himself with making tea, apparently trying to choose the perfect teabag, as if they weren’t all the same.

“Is that all you’re gonna say?” he finally managed to ask.

“Yeah… what else do you want me to say?” his boyfriend replied, voice slightly higher than usual and trembling along with his entire frame, Blaine noticed, when he lifted the kettle to pour water into their mugs.

Blaine’s own voice was right there with Kurt’s, shaky as he exhaled and replied, “well… something. Anything. ‘Cause of us. And how much it sucks. Because I think it sucks.”

"It's your future, Blaine. And if it looks bright and shiny, that's good for me too, right? It means you'd be happy. More than anything, I want you to - to be h-happy," Kurt stuttered the last word, sounding increasingly hoarse. Blaine reacted by drawing his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, feeling unreasonably rejected.

"Well... if it's that simple for you..." he murmured before burying his face in his knees, hiding that there were tears glistening in his eyes threatening to fall.

Kurt was quiet for a while, and Blaine obviously couldn't see him, so it came as a surprise when suddenly, a tiny hiccup echoed around the room, followed by another, and another. Blaine looked back up to see he was still standing with his back towards him, shaking from head to toe, clutching something - probably the tea mug - between his hands. He was willing to bet that if he could see his knuckles, they'd be white as snow judging from how tense his entire posture was, no doubt in an attempt to remain in control.

As if in slow-motion, Blaine found himself disentangling his limbs and pulling himself up to his feet. His movements remained just as calculated, as deliberate, as he made his way over to Kurt and gently pried the mug from the death-grip he had on it, lest he drop it at some point and burn himself. He set it down and wrapped his arms around the, by now, sobbing boy. Kurt struggled against his hold, but he didn’t let that deter him, tightening it instead and resting his head in the juncture where his shoulder and neck met.

“I’m not taking it,” he said, his voice firm, conveying more conviction than he actually felt. “I’m not leaving you here. I’ll - I’ll call them right now and tell them that they can either offer me a spot here in New York or forget about me.”

“I – Blaine, I couldn’t live with myself if you did that.” Kurt sounded choked as he said it, and Blaine made a point of rubbing soothing circles into his back. “I can’t ask you to give up an opportunity like that for me, and I’m not going to, and I’m not going to let you do it either. It just…” he was interrupted by another sob tearing from his throat. “It just fucking sucks, okay? Because I know you’ll be amazing, and I want you to be amazing and happy and have everything you’ve ever wanted, I want you to break into the business and be the genius producer I know you are, and maybe release a few records yourself, I just –“ he took a deep breath, stopping the stream of words rushing from his mouth, “I just wish it weren’t at the expense of our relationship.”

“It won’t be! I’ll stay here and if I don’t get into the post-grad program, I’ll, I don’t know, I’ll work or I’ll break open my trust fund and we’ll get our damn happily ever after because Kurt, what you and I have, that’s everything I ever wanted, not some stupid job at a stupid company that won’t mean anything if I don’t get to share it with you.” At least he was convinced that that bit was true, even if he wasn’t sure whether declining the offer was a good idea.

Kurt inhaled deeply a couple of times before he replied. “If the roles were reversed… If it was you stuck here for another 3 and a half years, and I got the opportunity to go away and accomplish what I’ve set out to do, design amazing clothes with an even more amazing label, what would you do? Would you let me stay and be miserable, or would you let me go?”

Blaine remained silent, because what was there to say? Kurt knew the answer to that question. Articulating it seemed painfully redundant, and denying it would be an insult to Kurt’s intelligence.

“Come with me?” he suddenly blurted. “I could, I don’t know, I could just stay for the 6 months my contract entails, then we’ll both come back to New York and I’ll have gotten the practical experience and if I make a good impression, I could reapply for a position once you’re finished with your Bachelor’s and I’m done with my Master’s.”

“How would that even work?” Kurt asked slightly incredulously. “I can’t just drop out and enroll and drop out again and re-enroll in programs as I please. And, baby…” he sighed, making to step out of Blaine’s embrace, and this time, Blaine let him; his own heart seemed to be tearing apart at the seams, and he didn’t know how to hold Kurt’s together when he himself was breaking.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to move to Santa Monica. Like, ever. I have zero interest in California, and I’m pretty sure I’d start resenting you halfway through our stay and then we’d end up b-breaking up anyway.” Kurt’s face crumbled again as he stumbled over the “b-word”, and he turned around again, arms wrapping around his middle as he leaned against the wall for support. “We, haaahh,” he drew in a harsh breath, his words interspersed with even more sobs and hiccups and Blaine was fucking dying from watching it and being unable to prevent it, unable to prevent his angel from falling, falling, falling – “we haven’t even been together for 6 months. You might end up hating me too if you don’t go. This is the kinda stuff that breaks relationships and, if we ever get that far, marriages. It’s the kinda stuff that you’ll end up throwing in my face during late night fights, the kinda stuff that will make you want to sleep on the couch,” Blaine almost laughed because he knew for a fact that, at least subconsciously, Kurt had chosen that wording because there was no fucking way he’d be the one sleeping on the couch, “the kinda stuff that will make you hate me and no matter what happens from here on out, I could never live with that. I couldn’t live with you hating me, I’d die, and I’m not being dramatic here, I, I…”

“I could never hate you,” Blaine interrupted softly when he saw Kurt starting to scratch at his forearm, not hugging Kurt to his chest and shielding him from the inexorable pain like he so desperately wanted to, because he knew that it was him causing it. Instead, he grabbed Kurt’s wrist while he let his other hand wander over the expanse of his back and draw patterns which he knew calmed Kurt down. “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t throw it in your face. And I know we haven’t been dating all that long, all things considered, but imagine we’d met like, two years ago. There’s no doubt in my mind we would have been together for this entire time, and no doubt in my mind we will be together for much, much longer than the time we’ve already been given. It’s the circumstances, not the feelings or the compatibility or anything. It’s stupid timing. So as far as I’m concerned,” he continued quickly, before Kurt could counter him with some super sensible, rational argument, “this decision is as much yours as it is mine because… Kurt, baby… if I have any say in the matter, these six months will be nothing more than a tiny dot on the endless timeline that is our lives together. It might look huge now, considering how short our timeline still is, but it will be.”

Kurt turned his head towards him to give him a shaky smile. “It’s really hard to believe you have so much faith in my ability to keep you for that long, though I know you’re serious. I don’t think even I have that much faith in myself.”

“That’s because you don’t realize how utterly perfect you are, and that I’m the one who has to work and be in a constant state of awe that I get to keep you.”

At that, Kurt turned fully, his body colliding with Blaine’s and knocking the breath out of him. He pushed him towards the bed and let himself collapse on top of him, curling up into a ball while Blaine instinctively wrapped him in his arms.

“What do you suggest, then?” Kurt whispered after a few minutes of letting himself be held. Or maybe it had been hours. Blaine couldn’t tell, way too content with the feeling of the teen’s lithe body against his own, seeking comfort in him, even if he did prefer when he didn’t need comforting.

“Well… we have another few months before I leave, so I say we calm down for now and see where we stand when the time comes. And let’s be honest here, there’s couples far less fabulous than us who have managed long distance for far longer than 6 months.” He kissed Kurt’s forehead softly. “So maybe we should give it a shot and show them how it’s done Klaine style. I’m serious about coming back afterwards. If they really want me, they’ll offer me a job after I’m done with my studies.”

Kurt laughed at the mention of the name their friends, and strangely, some teachers had given the two of them. Allegedly, just to shorten the amount of time it takes to say their names separately, but they knew that even with all the haters, there was a die-hard core of people who would bend over backwards to see them get their happily ever after… most importantly, the two of them.

“That’s a thought,” Kurt spoke in a hushed voice, his breathing back to normal as he craned his neck to press his lips against Blaine’s, letting them convey all the feelings no words could ever seem to describe accurately.

“Your dad is going to kill me for making you cry.”

“My dad loves you, and he’s not going to kill you.”

“He told me stories about his shotgun. He named her Mable. Like a freaking cat.”

“He’s harmless!”

“He’s a psychopath and he’s just biding his time!”

Kurt laughed and swatted at Blaine’s chest before getting up, supposedly to “wash the snot off his face.” Blaine didn’t think much of it when he disappeared for more than 20 minutes after announcing that, thinking he might need some time to digest the emotional turmoil of the day and secretly glad he got the chance to do the same, but upon his return, he realized that that wasn’t exactly the case.

His jaw literally dropped as he stared, wide-eyed, at the tall, pale and broad figure appearing in the doorway.

“You’re naked,” he blurted, feeling his own dick jump to attention as Kurt closed the bathroom door with a bump of his hip, his cock jutting out majestically as he strutted over to where Blaine was reclining on the bed. Majestic, that’s a weird word to describe a cock, his mind provided before it went blank as Kurt crawled on top of him, nibbling a line up his jaw before biting down on his earlobe.

“Make love to me. Show me I’m yours. Let me remind you you’re mine.”

With that, he turned around, resting his weight on all fours and encasing Blaine’s lower half with his lithe frame as he stuck his ass out into the air, into Blaine’s face, like a silent offering.

Blaine didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned forward to start nibbling at one cheek before burying his face in the cleft between both, tongue poking out to lap the hole Kurt had already prepared for him. He licked, and sucked, and fucked Kurt both with his tongue and his cock, until the teen was crying out and sobbing beneath him, Blaine’s fingerprints imprinted on his hips and his ass, his body jerking wildly, convulsing around Blaine, his cock spattering the sheets with cum, and tears of need and love and maybe a bit sadness rolling down his face. Blaine felt his own eyes mist over and a couple of drops escape them as he screwed them shut and keened, the sound of his skin slapping against Kurt’s echoing around them one more time as he buried himself to the hilt and held himself there, claiming him again, and again, and again, with the throbs of his cock releasing deep inside him.

Later, they’d be laughing at the fact that they had both been full-on crying again as they lay down beside one another, each burrowed into the other’s hold, tangling their arms and legs in a way that made it impossible to tell where one began and the other ended.

Later, at his graduation ceremony, Blaine would realize that Burt showing up to support him instead of his blood-related family meant that maybe the man did accept him in his son’s life after all, and that he could sleep without fear of Mable finding him.

Later, at the terminal as his flight was announced over the speakers and Kurt and him shared a tearful goodbye that would never be funny, not even in hindsight, he’d realize that there was nothing and no one he’d ever love more than Kurt, and nothing and no one he wouldn’t give up for the chance to be with him, because being with him was what he’d been waiting for his entire life.

Later, at the Christmas party his company threw and he had to attend before he could make his journey to Lima, Ohio, he’d realize how serious he had been about the “no one he wouldn’t give up” part when he didn’t even notice that the other intern in his division, a guy he would have been slobbering over just a year and a half ago, was subtly flirting with him until one of his co-workers pointed it out to him. It became even more blatantly obvious when he realized how much he didn’t care and that he had no desire to explore his options anymore.

And when he later, finally, fell back into Kurt’s arms, the damn brat picking him up and twirling him and their roars of laughter making Burt and Carole pretend not to know them as they looked around awkwardly with barely contained grins, he realized something else. He realized that that hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach and the ache in his chest hadn’t been for New York, hadn’t been for the distinct lack of sandy beaches filled with sun-bathing tourists and surgically enhanced women and anabolic-enhanced men parading their artificial bodies on the streets. The entire time he spent in Santa Monica, he hadn’t been feeling homesick for a city. As the hole filled back up and the seams around it closed and Kurt continued to sway him, although he’d thankfully set him on the ground by now, he also finally realized where his true home lay.


	7. You're A Champion Itching For A Comeback

“You okay, babe?” Blaine could barely contain a grin as he looked at Kurt’s even-paler-than-usual face, cold sweat beading at his brow and the look in his eyes wild and somewhat manic as it darted over the backstage area.

“U-huh. Have you seen Eleanor? I need her to put on the gown again, I think I messed up the measurements and there’s just enough time for me to fix them if I could just find her but she’s not answering her cell and she didn’t tell me where she went off to and I just knew it’s too loose around the waist when I saw her earlier and I’m so stupid I should’ve kept her there right then but then Jess had a crisis and –“

Blaine framed Kurt’s face with his hands, careful as ever, and fixated him with his eyes.

“Breathe. Okay? I’m sure she’s around here somewhere; it’s not like she’s actually allowed to leave backstage before the show. And I’m sure you were as immaculate with her measurements as you always are.”

“But what if she lost weight since last time?”

“Kurt, last time was not even two days ago. No one can lose that much weight that quickly. Now relax, okay? Look,” he said when he spotted the model and started stirring Kurt in her direction. “There she is. Go make sure you appeased your great big perfectionist urges. I’ll be outside with your dad.”

“Is he upset I’m spending all my time back here?” Kurt looked at him, so wide-eyed and earnest in his fear that Blaine couldn’t help but laugh and kiss his cute button nose, making him scrunch it up and Blaine kiss it again.

“Of course he’s not upset. He’s thrilled to be spending so much time with his future son-in-law, trust me. I’ve got him and Carole and Finn right where I want them so they don’t get upset when they hear us having sex over the next ten days.”

“I’m not having sex with you with my dad in the next room – oh fuck it.” Kurt glared when Blaine interrupted him with a cheeky grin and a, “fuck me, yeah!”

The pale man shook his head. “I need to go and… check up on Ellie. See you in a bit. Or maybe not. Stay with my family.”

“Alright…” Blaine wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed his cheek. “Text me if you need me though. Good luck, not that you really need it. You’re gonna kill this thing.”

“Thanks, sweetie. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

“That’s debatable and you know it.”

Kurt leaned in to give him a quick peck on the mouth before bustling over to the redhead, who laughed as he spoke to her frantically and willingly pulled her top up to below her breasts as he produced a measuring tape out of nowhere.

Blaine stared after his fiancé fondly, only managing to tear his gaze away when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

**Where are you? How’s Kurt doing? Tell him not to pee his pants like the time he did when he was 6 and put on a fashion show with his Mom. – Papa Bear**

Unable to contain the laugh tearing from his throat, Blaine hurried back to where the “commoners” were sitting. It had been Kurt’s wish that his family was not allowed to go backstage before the show; he was even going to ban Blaine from the area, but after the fourth nervous breakdown he’d had over the last couple of weeks, nearly resulting in him completely cutting up the most elaborate dress he’d sewn for the occasion, he realized that the element of surprise wasn’t as valuable as his sanity.

“Did you mean literally pee his pants or metaphorically?” Blaine asked once he spotted the Hudmel family and plopped down next to Burt. The man quirked an eyebrow at him, the gesture eerily reminiscent of his son pulling the same expression.

“It’s Kurt and fashion and there was some kind of… what did he call it? A wardrobe malfunction. What do you think?”

Snickering and vowing to make his fiancé spill the entire story later, once this whole ordeal was over and done with and he finally managed to get some food into him and maybe convince him to sleep, he leaned back and waited for the showcase to begin.

. . .

“To Kurt Hummel, NYU graduate at the top of his class and future head of design for Alexander McQueen!” Burt roared as he held up his glass. It was very obvious to Blaine that the man didn’t usually drink, what with him being obviously at least tipsy after less than two glasses of champagne.

“It’s a paid internship, Dad. Yes, they said if they like what they see, they’ll hire me for good, but I still have a long way to go,” Kurt interjected, but there was a flush adorning his beautiful features and his eyes were shining bright with happiness as he let everyone’s glasses clink with his despite his words. The last time Blaine had seen him look so… alive, so vibrant, was after he’d uttered a shaky, “yeah… yes,” when Blaine proposed to him.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he leaned over to whisper in his ear, making the rosy color on his cheeks deepen. And that was something he hoped would never change; the two of them had been together for almost four years, and the people around them would be shocked and appalled if they knew what kind of kinky shit they got up to in the bedroom, but he still had the power to make Kurt blush to his roots with a simple compliment.

The man turned towards him, cerulean oceans reflecting the morning sun locking onto Blaine’s hazel eyes – stupid and ordinary was what Blaine called them; beautiful and calm and deep like a Scandinavian forest was how Kurt described them.

“I would have thought I always look beautiful,” he teased, his voice quiet and breathy.

“You do. But tonight, you’re glowing extra bright. You should stop. It’s not fair on us mortals.”

“You make me sound like a pregnant woman,” Kurt chuckled and pressed his lips against Blaine’s, making an electric current run down his spine and his hands clench into fists and the cheesy comeback he had on the tip of his tongue sizzle out.

“They’re staying with Rachel tonight. Her dads wanna catch up or something, but I know it’s really a ruse to get her and Finn to talk.” Pale fingers interlaced with his tan ones, accompanied by the faintest noise of metal meeting metal as their engagement rings connected and Kurt squeezed his hand. “Care to try and get one of us pregnant in spite of our biological setup? Test if it works if we try over and over again?”

Ah, there was the comeback Blaine had forgotten. He snorted unattractively even as he felt a faint buzzing start in his abdomen and radiate through the rest of his limbs.

“Count me in,” he whispered back just as he felt someone smack him on the back of his head.

“C’mon, Hobbit, you get him all the time! Let the rest of us enjoy Child Bride, too,” Santana grumbled.

“Yeah, I had to beg my boss to let me take off the week and I didn’t grovel on my knees for you to hog him all the time! My life is so hard, Kurtie,” Elliott added with a pout.

“First of all, I’m nearly 22, so shut up, Santana. Secondly, Elliott, you’re a recording artist. With Blaine’s company nonetheless, so we know how it works, even if he’s here in New York and you’re in Santa Monica, and you literally stand around and sing, which is something you do all the time anyway, so remind me again how your job is hard? See these?” Kurt withdrew his hands from Blaine’s to present them to the people gathered around the table, showing off the blisters he’d gotten from countless hours of sewing. “This is work.”

There was a beat of silence. “I know he’s small in general but is Anderson’s ass really that tight or…?” Santana interrupted it, acting innocent and confused as Finn choked on his drink and Burt, too, coughed obviously while the rest of the table chuckled surreptitiously-but-not-really.

“I hate you all,” Blaine groaned and crossed his arms on the table to hide his face in them. “Except Kurt,” he clarified, voice muffled, and felt Kurt’s palm rubbing up and down his back and his lips connecting with his temple as he shook with the vibrations of his silenced laughter.

. . .

“How long till they’re due back here?” Kurt panted, clutching the sheets and shuffling his legs further apart.

“We’ve got time. It’s not even 8 yet,” Blaine murmured as he pecked over Kurt’s shoulder to the back of his neck, draping his body completely over his fiancé’s lying flat on the bed.

“I know I promised you’d get to fuck me one more time today but…” Blaine exhaled a shuddering breath as he lined up his cock with Kurt’s hole. “My ass has never been that sore, not even the time you thought Horseteeth was flirting with me again at that party and got jealous.”

“Wasn’t – wasn’t jealous,” Kurt gasped and spread his legs as wide as he could while keeping them on the bed as Blaine pushed into him inch by inch. “And I’m, ahh, not complaining. Love when you wake me up like this and you know it.”

“It’s just so tempting...” Blaine sighed, followed by a moan when he finally bottomed out. “Your skin all soft and warm, body pliant and that delicious ass on display… Couldn’t not taste it.”

“Mhm, I know… I’ve been there with you… Oh yeah, like that, slow and deep and…” Kurt began to murmur, but was interrupted by an involuntary gasp when Blaine thrust in roughly.

“Hard? Hold you down, don’t let you move, make you take it?” Blaine breathed into Kurt’s ear before latching onto the lobe, making the pale man groan in pleasure.

“You, mhm… you know me so well,” he chuckled breathlessly and turned his head to the side to look at Blaine. “Kiss me?”

Blaine complied, wasting no time and immediately plunging into Kurt’s wet, satiny mouth. His eyes were closed as their lips and tongues danced and he explored every nook and cranny to make sure it tasted just the same as it had the night before, and Kurt would probably call bullshit because “morning breath, Blaine!” but there was something so uniquely, strongly Kurt there that neither morning breath nor alcohol nor toothpaste could erase it, and it made him moan and shake to be allowed to sample it.

Kurt was starting to buck beneath him and whined into his mouth, something Blaine had come to know as the tell-tale sign that he needed more now. His hands found Kurt’s and he laced their fingers together before he brought them up next to his head and held them there, resting his weight more firmly along the length of his lithe body – except for his hips, which were incrementally picking up pace and adjusting the angle with which they were burying his cock inside Kurt, until the man forcefully tore his lips from Blaine’s and cried out, eyes squeezing shut.

“Right there, yes, yes, yes…” he whimpered as Blaine’s mouth latched onto every part of skin he could reach. Perhaps cruelly, the older man decided to readjust the angle, making Kurt shout, “no, no! Go back, I was right there, go back!”

Blaine didn’t react other than transferring both of Kurt’s wrist above his head and into one of Blaine’s hands so he could grab a fistful of the sweat-soaked, chestnut strands on Kurt’s head. He pulled a little, grinning at the wide-eyed, hungry gaze he received in response.

“Beg,” he said, the cheeky smirk on his face only belied by the desperate look in his own eyes and the sweat running down his face, starting at his temples and dripping from his chin and nose onto Kurt. Kurt only whimpered some more in response, so he forced himself to still completely inside him. “C’mon, I know how much you love it when I make you beg, no need to act coy.”

“Oh fuck,” Kurt whined, and Blaine would have laughed at how predictable his fiancé was if he didn’t love how well he knew how to push his buttons, and if he wasn’t so damn turned on himself. “Yes, yes I love it, and you know how desperate I am for you so please fuck me like it, please please please, Blaine, please…”

Blaine growled and attacked Kurt’s mouth as he plunged himself in, out, in, out, with increasing vigor, not even needing to seek out Kurt’s spot anymore because he knew exactly where it was and made sure to hit it every time he sunk into him.

“You like that, filthy little boy? You like when I stuff you full of my cock? Of course you do, you’re practically gagging for it, your greedy little hole is practically sucking me up…”

Kurt’s moans were beautifully wanton, his body writhing as much as it could with Blaine’s restricting him, no doubt rubbing his cock against the sheets as he started to babble and contract around Blaine’s length.

“Oh shit, yes, yes, like that... Blaine, baby, more, please… please…”

“More? It’s never enough for you, is it? I could fuck you for hours on end and you’d still be panting for more…”

“Only you, only because it’s you,” Kurt gasped, ass clamping down on Blaine and his entire body going rigid as he cried out and made a mess of the sheets below him. “Love you, love you, love you…”

“Shit, I love you too… love you… fuck, fuck, Kurt!” Blaine groaned as he followed Kurt over the edge, burying himself in the pale man one last time and sobbing out his orgasm into the crook of his neck as he coated his walls. Completely spent, he slumped down on top of him.

They were both breathing harshly into the sudden quiet of the room, heartbeats rabbit-quick and chests heaving as they basked. It was Kurt who broke the silence, chuckling and squirming beneath Blaine until the older man rolled off of him and he could borrow into his side, their skin still slippery against each other.

“You think marital sex is going to be as good as pre-marital sex?”

Blaine just grunted, his brain not at full capacity yet, and Kurt hid his face in his chest and laughed.

. . .

The fact that Blaine invited his father to the wedding was probably just as much of a surprise to everyone else as it was to him, but Cooper had managed to track him down and convince him that their mother had not completely ruined their image of him, and he seemed to regret leaving them behind, so he figured it was probably only polite to send him an invitation.

He hadn’t expected him to actually RSVP, let alone confirm that he was, indeed, coming.

And he definitely hadn’t expected him to actually show up, especially not looking around as nervously as he was at the other guests gathered around, as if he wasn’t sure he was welcome.

He nudged Cooper, who was in deep conversation with Eleanor and obviously about to complain about the interruption when his words died in his throat.

“If you’ll excuse us…” Cooper gave the woman one of his million-dollar-smiles and she nodded with one of her own, turning around to seek out someone else to converse with until the ceremony started.

“Hi boys… How are you doing?” Aaron Anderson had aged over the past 10 years they hadn’t seen him, but not in a bad way; he looked healthy, the tan the Thailand sun had gifted him with making his blue eyes pop; they were also emphasized by laugh lines instead of worried creases as Blaine had always suspected would be the case, as was his mouth, and a few flecks of grey were adorning his otherwise dark brown hair.

There was so much Blaine wanted to say. So much he could and should say, about neglect and abandonment and how much he resented him, hated him, except he realized now that he didn’t, couldn’t, not when his dad was giving him all he ever wanted by saying, “so, do I get to meet the lucky man you’re making your husband today? I would very much like to let him know what a great catch he made.”

And then he was in his father’s arms, sobbing helplessly, and his dad was crying too, and so was Cooper when he joined their embrace, and when he looked up, wiping his eyes as discretely as he could, he saw Kurt watch them from afar with a happy twinkle in his eyes, matching the beaming smile that was painted by the curve of his lips.

“Yeah… c’mon, quick, before the ceremony starts. I’m not gonna complain if there’s one more person convincing him not to run screaming after all. And you’re gonna get along great,” Blaine added as he pulled his father and Cooper to where Kurt was standing, looking more and more nervous as they approached him. “No one can talk cars and motorcycles like him and his dad. And he’s a designer, so don’t take it personally if he starts tearing apart whoever made your suit,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“Why, what’s wrong with my suit?!”

“What isn’t?” Cooper countered with a chuckle, making their father huff in false indignation, and since when was it so easy to get along and joke with his dad? When would the illusion pop? Blaine’s thoughts were racing, but he decided to push them to the back of his mind for now, exorcize them for this beautiful, beautiful, blessing of a day, and at least temporarily forget all his worries as he reached his flustered fiancé-soon-to-be-husband.

He had no worries as Kurt and Aaron seemed to click right away.

He had no worries as Tina came up to him and hissed about it being bad luck that they’d seen each other in their wedding suits before the ceremony, and laughed when she looked shocked that neither of them had grappled for the opportunity to strut down the aisle either and moaned about how funny and silly and completely them that would have been.

He… almost worried when he forgot his vows halfway through, but decided to simply announce a loud “fuck it!” and wing it.

“Kurt… I… okay. When I first met you, I’ll admit that the first thing I thought was ‘hot damn, papa want a piece of that’.” Burt shouted an irate “hey!” as the rest of the crowd laughed. “Psh, Papa Bear, I’m trying to make a point here,” Blaine replied, grinning and already feeling teary-eyed. “And it will come as no surprise to anyone who’s met you, but of course, you rejected me. I didn’t know why that bothered me so much, until a certain glitter rock vampire entered the equation,” it was Elliott’s turn to protest loudly, but Blaine ignored him aside from the chuckle he emitted, “and his friendship with you made me seethe with jealousy and… I realized I’d give anything just for the chance to be near you, to be allowed to breathe in the same air as you and call you at least a friend. And words cannot express how grateful I am you let me.” He sucked in a harsh breath before continuing, everything but Kurt’s watery eyes fading into the background. “A lot of people didn’t understand us. Still don’t understand us. I remember when I had to leave you here for six months. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and everyone was rooting against us, but we prevailed. We showed them, and here we are today. The day you walked into my life you… you saved me, Kurt. I didn’t know I needed it, but you did it nonetheless and I realize now how lost I was. You brought, you still bring out the best version of myself I could ever be and I never have and never will take that for granted, and I’d be honored if you let me prove that to you, if you let me show you how utterly thankful and devoted to you I am for the rest of our lives.”

And when he remembered the generic words he’d set out to say beforehand, he couldn’t help but be glad he forgot them.

Kurt laughed when it was his turn, the sound suspiciously wet as he took a few deep breaths before he spoke.

“Blaine… I had this beautiful speech planned out, did you know that? I made index cards for it and learned it by heart and it contained all those nice words like “soulmate” and “love of my life” and everything. But in the spirit of things… fuck it,” he repeated what Blaine had said earlier, making the older man grin and their guests whoop in approval. “I was well aware of what you were out for when you first approached me that night, and I’d heard stories about you, but when I saw you I couldn’t help but think… holy crap, I understand the fuss now. But I didn’t really – I only understood what everyone else did, and that’s the fact that you’re hot. And no one will ever be as glad, and as thankful, as I am that I decided to step off my high horse and give myself the chance,” he emphasized, “to discover who you truly are. Which is the most amazing man I’ve ever met, and could ever hope to meet. My dad always says I’m as stubborn as a mule, and I guess that’s true, but it’s because I’ve had to fight for the right to be who I am for most of my life. And when I met you… that was the first time I didn’t have to fight anymore. I can be myself around you and know that you don’t only accept me, but that you love me, not despite my eccentricities but because of them. It feels so good to not have to fight anymore, and I know you probably won’t believe me but Blaine… you saved me just as much. You give me safety. You make me feel connected. And you’d make me the happiest man alive if you also gave me a chance today… if you gave me the chance to promise to love you in return and show you how grateful I am for you, every day for the rest of eternity. I’m about to say the word after all, but you’re the love of my life, and I want us to be together, fearlessly…” he started.

“And forever.” Blaine breathed back, completing the phrase that had become their constant over the past few years.

Everyone gathered cheered as they kissed, and laughed once more when they all realized the officiant hadn’t even declared them Mr and Mr Hummel-Anderson yet.

It didn’t matter.

Blaine had no worries.

Kurt would gladly kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it! I had to completely rewrite the epilogue when I realized how much the first one sucked, and then I got sick and today/night is actually the first time in two weeks I haven’t had a headache so here it is. I hope you enjoyed this story and if you did, that you let me know in the comments or via kudos :) Thanks to everyone who read this and gave me the courage and motivation to plow on and keep posting. Your encouragement really means the world, and it’s because of you that writing this was such a pleasant, fun experience.  
> Also, in case you’re interested in reading more, I’ll be taking prompts for this ‘verse, so if you wanna head on over to my tumblr (or message me on here, though it would be easier for me to keep track via tumblr) and prompt something, feel free to do so!


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